Haunted House
by 0equilibrium0
Summary: When Matthew finally moves away from home, everything is new: new house, new city, new neighbors, new house mate...hold on a second, what?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own APH.

,,

Ludwig hummed softly to himself, still blushing after his date, as he unlocked the front door of his house. "Gilbert, I'm home." When there was no reply, Ludwig began to worry. "Gilbert? Are you here?" Ludwig frowned. His brother wasn't supposed to leave the house unsupervised. "Gi—Gilbert!"

Gilbert lay in a crumpled heap at the foot of the stairs, a pool of blood congealing around his head. "Mein Gott…" Ludwig whispered. For a moment, all he could do was stare. Gilbert groaned softly, and Ludwig's mind kicked back into gear. His phone was in his hands before he'd realized it, and his fingers were punching in three numbers.

"_Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?"_

,,

"…and this is the last room, and you can see the backyard from the window!" The cheerful Italian realtor smiled at Matthew. "So, what do you think? Do you want it?"

Matthew looked around the cozy, two-story Victorian that he was honestly considering buying. It was near the college he was attending, and… "Why is it so cheap? I've heard some rumors about it, and I was wondering if any of them had basis in fact."

Mr. Vargas laughed nervously. "Well, about that…there was an accident here a few years ago. A young man fell down the stairs and was killed. Everyone who's lived here after that has, er..." The realtor didn't mention the fact that, at the time, he had been dating his now-husband, the dead man's younger brother.

"So people think it's haunted?" Matthew thought of his brother's fear of ghosts, his father's obsession with the occult. "I can deal with that. Is there anything else?"

The realtor shook his head hurriedly. "No, no, nothing at all! Everything else is absolutely perfect!"

"I'll take it."

,,

Gilbert scowled at the man arranging the dry goods in the cupboards. _Gilbert's_ cupboards. Well, actually Ludwig was the only one to ever put away (or even buy) any groceries, but _still_, it was the spirit of the thing!

_Spirit. Keeseese._ Gilbert laughed mentally at his own (bad) pun. Not expecting the stranger to be able to hear him (none of the others before had) Gilbert leaned against the counter and loudly intoned, "Boo."

,,

Matthew jumped, and spun to face the intruder. "Who's there?" He demanded, kitchen knife he had grabbed from the counter gleaming dangerously.

He stared at the man lounging in his kitchen like he owned the place. White bangs fell into crimson eyes, pale arms crossed over a narrow chest, and a look of surprise that mirrored Matthew's own pulled at his face.

"Who are you?" Matt snarled, not letting his fear show in his tone.

"Y-you…you can see me?" Matthew heard a definite accent-German, maybe?-in the man's shocked tone.

"What do you mean, can I see you? Of course I can see you! Who are you and what are you doing in my house?" Matt lunged forward slightly, still holding the knife. The pale stranger cringed defensively.

"No need to get violent." The man held his hands up, as if to ward Matthew off. "It's just that no one's ever been able to see me before, is all."

Matthew frowned suspiciously. "Why wouldn't they be able to?"

"Well…I'm kind of a ghost."

"How stupid do I look to you, _eh?_" Matthew snarled the last syllable, effectively hiding his terror.

"You don't look stupid! I really am a ghost! Watch." The man slowly grew translucent, and he lowered his hand through the countertop. "See?"

Matthew gaped. "I…I never should have let Lars talk me into eating those brownies…Did he put acid in them or something? I thought he only did pot…" He continued rambling about his druggie friend as the ghost stared at him.

"Um, kid?" Pale fingers tapped Matthew on the shoulder. "Whether or not you're high is irrelevant to the fact that I exist."

"You just touched me. You t-_touched_ me. I've never heard of hallucinations _touching_ people before…" Matthew shivered. "You're real, aren't you? Alfred's not just crazy, ghosts really do exist, and I'm talking to one right now, aren't I?"

"Well, I don't know about this Alfred guy, but yeah, ghosts exist, and yeah, you are talking to one. The name's Gilbert, Gilbert Beilschmidt. Who're you?"

"I-I'm Matthew Williams. A…are you really a, a…ghost?" Matthew wrung his hands in a nervous tic he wasn't aware of.

"Sadly enough, yeah." Gilbert pulled his feet off the ground so that he hovered about a yard off the linoleum, hands resting on his ankles.

"Um, are you the person the realtor was talking about? The one who f-fell down the stairs?"

"Feli told you that I fell down the stairs? The hell?" Gilbert grew silent for a moment. "Oh yeah, I remember now. The popo never figured out what happened, did they?" Gilbert snorted harshly. "No one ever realized that I was_ pushed_ down those stairs."

"Pushed? Y-you mean you were m-m…murdered?" Matthew's eyes grew wide behind his glasses. Gilbert nodded.

"Yeah. I heard someone in the house, so I went looking for 'em, 'cause it didn't sound like Ludwig. I check the downstairs first, and when I made it to the top of the steps someone bashed my head in and down I went. I never got a look at the bastard's face, but I did hear him laughing. Everything went black and the next thing I knew I was dead."

"I-I see…"

..

Chapter One of _Haunted House_! Woot! This is my first attempt at writing a story with an outline, so wish me luck! Also, to all the people who read _Alphabet Soup_, hi!  
ChiCho out!


	2. Chapter 2

"This's my room."

Matthew looked up at the unexpected announcement. "Really?"

"Yup. I mean, it_ was_ my room, but I don't sleep anymore, so I guess it'll be okay for you to use it." Gilbert gestured around the empty space. "I had my bed over here, and my TV there, and my shoes were always in a pile right there, and, well, I think you get the picture." He smiled crookedly.

"Yeah." Matthew laughed softly. Gilbert realized that he liked the sound. "Give me a hand?" Matthew indicated the bed frame leaning against the wall and the mattress next to it.

"Sure."

,,

"Ve~! I can't believe that someone is moving into the house right next door to the one I just sold!" Feliciano smiled at his husband. "It's so strange!"

"Hm." Ludwig continued washing the dishes.

"I sold the first one to-to…whoever he was, he was very polite! And then right after that, not even a week later, a man with a very heavy accent bought the house right beside it!"

Ludwig didn't comment on the fact that, due to the combination of his quick speech and his Italian accent, some people had a hard time understanding Feliciano himself.

"Mr. Oxenstierna was very tall! It was scary, ve~! But Mr. Väinämöinen was so nice! He let me pet his doggy! It has a funny name, though. He says his Japanese friend told him that it means 'flower egg'…" Feliciano continued rambling. Ludwig put the last of the dishes away.

,,

"It's so nice here! What do you think, Berwald?" Tino grinned up at the taller man, Hanatamago wriggling in his arms.

"Mm." Berwald wanted to tell Tino that he was glad he liked it, but that would be sort of embarrassing to say.

"I don't get why I have to switch schools! We didn't move that far…" Peter grumbled over his GameBoy.

"Maybe not, but we did move into another school district. Don't worry; I'm sure you'll make new friends quickly." Tino assured the sulking boy.

"Whatever. I liked my _old_ friends, but I guess I won't get to see them now, huh?" Peter sneered.

"P't'r." Berwald rumbled warningly.

"It's all right, he's just a little upset. He'll get over it and be happy eventually." Tino dropped his voice slightly to avoid Peter overhearing.

"I mean, now I'm gonna have to get used to this new place, and the new people, and the new school, and—"

"Peter, it's really not that bad. When I was only a few years older than you I moved to Georgia from Finland. Can you imagine how hard that was? A new culture, new customs, and a language I barely spoke. You could have moved to a new country rather than just a new neighborhood." Tino put his hands on his hips. Peter refused to look him in the eye. Berwald just smiled slightly as he remembered the first time he had met Tino, just two foreign kids trying to fit into an American school.

,,

"Hey, Matt? Were you expecting another moving van?" Gilbert queried, leaning in the windowsill. "'Cause if you are, it's pulling into the wrong driveway."

"Maybe someone's moving in over there." Matthew continued sorting his belongings as he put them away, wishing he had had the foresight to do so when he packed them.

"Probably. Looks like some blond guy. Two blond guys. And a blond kid. With a dog." Gilbert grinned when he saw the little white fluff ball.

"They have a dog? I hope it gets along with Kumahula." As if hearing his name, Kumajirou wandered up the stairs.

"Who?"

"Matthew." He barely noticed when he answered.

"Th-the fuck! It talks!" Gilbert jerked up and back, and his head smacked into the ceiling.

"Huh? You mean Kumalucy? Of course he talks; he's a Spirit Animal." Matthew absently stroked Kumajirou's head.

"Spirit animal?" Gilbert gazed at the beast suspiciously, remaining at the relatively safe level of the ceiling.

"Mm-hm. Almost everyone in my family has at least one. My brother, Alfred, has a, well, I'm not entirely sure _what_ it is. Al claims it's an alien. Whatever he is, his name's Mr. Tony. Dad has a bunch, though. Alfred and I can't see all of them, either. But some of the one's I can't see, Al can, and vice versa, so we figure it's a selective thing and Dad isn't just crazy." Matthew frowned at some unknown object he had extricated from a box. It was wrinkled and crumpled. After a moment, he realized that it was a t-shirt. _That must have been one of the boxes Al helped me pack_.

"…so you believe in spirit animals and aliens, but not ghosts?" Gilbert slowly lowered a few feet, waiting to see if Kumajirou looked like he was going to attack.

"Well, yeah. I mean, I'd had contact with both Spirit Animals _and_ aliens for as long as I can remember. I'd never seen a ghost before, so I had no reason to think that they existed."

"I guess that makes sense, but didn't you say something about Alfred when you first saw me? Something about how he wasn't just crazy?" Gilbert tentatively returned his feet to the ground and held out his hand for Kumajirou to inspect.

"Al's always claimed to be able to see ghosts. I never had, and Dad never said anything about it, so I assumed he was making it up to get attention." Matthew watched Kuma sniff at Gilbert's hand before nodding affirmatively, only to crawl onto Matthew's bed, curl up and go to sleep.

"What about your mom?" Gilbert scowled at Kumajirou. _First it scares the hell out of, and now it's _ignoring_ me?_

"Mom never had a Spirit Animal. Makes sense, all that kind of stuff is more Dad's side of the family. Actually, you might have heard of Mom, or at least heard her name. She's Francine Bonefoy. Like the Bonefoy Hotels."

"That's your mom? Damn. She's hot. But the fact that your Mom's a Bonefoy isn't all that important to me. One of my two best friends was Francis Bonefoy, her cousin. Biggest sex-addict I ever met, too." Gilbert grinned at the memories of Francis' sexploits, the details of which he never failed to share.

..

Yes, I did just include France and fem!France in the same story. 'Cause I'm awesome like that. And yes, Francine is vaguely (very vaguely) based on Paris Hilton. I don't know why, so don't bother asking. Anyway, in this Peter is about 12, and Tino moved when he was 17, Berwald at 18. I moved just over a year ago, completely against my will. I didn't move very far, only to another city, but it still broke my heart. But enough with the sob story! My friend Tara came over to my house today. It was so much fun! I thought it might be awkward, at least at first, because I hardly ever (read: never) have people over. But it really wasn't, for which I thank every deity known to man. This is a little off topic (we had a topic?) but the other day, Tara and I were discussing various people we know, and she said, "I know someone who's African, and someone who's Irish! My mom's African, and my dad's Irish!" I met her mom today, and she has the most gorgeous accent! Readers of _Alphabet Soup_ already know I have something of a fascination with accents of any kind. I think she said her mom was…Tanzian? That sounds right…anyway, ChiCho out!  
PS: Thanks to everyone who reviewed/subscribed/favorite! I think this's the fastest response to any story I've ever posted! You guys are awesome! I love you all!


	3. Chapter 3

Mathias scowled. He hated returning to neighborhoods where he had already 'worked.'

But it wasn't as if he had much of a choice. His landlord had evicted him, and Nikolai was staying in a dorm and couldn't let him stay for longer than a night. Which left him with the option he was now pursuing: his cousin Berwald. Though they may have hated each other, they were family, and thus morally obliged to help each other out of tight spots.

But that didn't mean either of them had to be happy about it.

,,

"I'm sorry Mathias, but you can't stay here. Find some other family member to mooch off of." Tino slammed the door. Berwald, reading a book in the living room, frowned at the noise.

"T'no? Who w's 't?" Berwald looked over Tino's head to peer through the peephole. Mathias smiled sheepishly back at him. "Wh't d'd 'e do?"

"His landlord finally got sick of him." Tino turned to leave.

"D'es 'e w'nt t' st'y 'ere?" Tino nodded. "We sh'd l't 'im."

Tino spun on his heel. "_What?_ Berwald! What are you thinking? What about Peter?"

"Wh't ab't 'im? 'e's ol' enough t' kn'w b'tt'r th'n t' ac' l'ke M'thias." Berwald reached for the doorknob. Tino grabbed his wrist.

"You know he scares me, Berwald." Tino almost whispered. "Please?"

Berwald hesitated. "B't 'e's f'm'ly. 'm s'rry, T'no, b't I c'n't jus' leave 'im."

"I-I understand." Tino threw his arms around Berwald in a quick hug before dashing away, leaving the blushing Swede to handle his cousin alone.

,,

Matthew blinked. There was a car in his driveway. A large, neon-orange-with-yellow-racing stripes, monster of a car. From behind the wheel of his beat-up red pick-up, Matthew stared at it.

After a few moments, he sighed and pulled up on the curb.

"Hey Gilbert, I'm home." Matthew called into the house as he dropped his keys in the bowl that was supposed to be reserved just for them, but instead contained change, lint, and all manner of pocket vomit.

"Hey Birdie." Gilbert called back from the couch. "Okaeri."

"What?" Matthew was too confused by what sounded like some Asian language to comment on the nickname.

"Ludwig had a Japanese friend named Kiku, and I got him to teach me some stuff. It means 'welcome home.'" Gilbert explained as he continued channel surfing.

"Oh. Let's see, in French that would be 'Bienvenue à la maison'." Matthew shucked his coat, and draped it over the back of a chair, as his coat rack had yet to be unearthed.

"Francis tried to teach me French a couple times, but he gave up eventually. Anyway, in German it's 'Willkommen zu Hause'." Gilbert watched Matthew dig around in his pockets for a moment before producing a handful of spare change, which he then dropped next to his keys.

"Hm. Do you know whose car that is?" Matthew pointed at the obnoxious vehicle.

Gilbert shook his head. "It pulled in a couple of hours ago. A blond dude got out, and went over to the house next door, the one the new people just moved into."

,,

"Hello. Um, there's a car blocking my drive way, and I was told that the owner is over here?" It took all of Matthew's willpower to not run screaming from the giant of a man who answered the door.

"Mm.'ll go g't 'im." The intimidating blond closed the door in Matthew's face, and the sound of his heavy footsteps slowly receded.

Another tall blond, slightly shorter than the first, opened the door. "Yo. You the kid complaining about my car?" He leaned against the doorframe, his spiked up hair seeming to defy gravity.

Matthew nodded. "I had to park on the curb, and it's disrupting traffic. I don't know why you parked over there, when there's space here."

"…guess I'll move it, but only 'cause you're cute." The man winked at Matthew. Matthew stared steadily back. "I'm Mathias. Who're you?" He ambled over to his car, Matthew trailing after.

,,

"That has got to be the ugliest car I've ever seen." Gilbert mused as Mathias maneuvered it into the proper driveway. "Looks like some American piece of crap." He added absently, remembering his own car, a sleek black Mercedes-Benz SLS AMG that he had babied, and in all honesty taken better care of than he had himself.

"It is a pretty hideous car." Matthew agreed, slipping his shoes off and dropping them in a pile next to the door.

"How'd you get him to move it?" Gilbert turned to face Matthew.

"I don't know, really. It was easier than I expected. I think he was flirting with me, actually. Said I was cute." Matthew stretched as he spoke, and Gilbert had to disagree: Matthew wasn't cute, he was fucking _sexy_.

_Wait, what did I just think…? Do I honestly think that Mattie's _sexy_? I guess he is pretty good looking, but sexy? Where the hell did that come from?_

"Gilbert? Is something wrong? You just suddenly spaced out." Matthew frowned, and bit his lip worriedly.

"Huh? Nein, nein, mir geht es gut." Gilbert answered absently.

Matthew raised his eyebrows. "I've told you before that I don't speak German."

"Was?" Gilbert replied, still not paying attention to the language he was speaking.

"Parfait, qu'il en soit ainsi."

"What? C'mon Mattie, you know I don't speak French." Gilbert whined. Matthew rolled his eyes.

"It's not important, just pay more attention, 'kay?" Matthew smiled slightly. Gilbert was reminded of his earlier internal debate.

"Anyway, I'm hungry. What do you want for lunch?" Matthew found it odd that Gilbert ate. He didn't need to, but he still enjoyed doing so, usually when he didn't have to make it himself.

"I don't care. How about beetenbartsch?"

"What's that?" Matthew cocked his head.

"It's a kind of soup…I'll make it. I know we've got the stuff for it…" Gilbert wandered to the kitchen as he spoke.

Matthew watched him cook, strangely pleased with the scene in front of him. Gilbert hummed as he worked, a steady tune that made Matthew think of classical music.

"Could you get me the beef out of the fridge?" Gilbert asked, snapping Matthew out of his musings.

"Sure." Matthew passed the requested item, and Gilbert mumbled his thanks.

"_Anarchy in the UK; It's coming sometime and maybe; I gi_—" Matthew answered his phone.

"Hi Dad. What's up?"

..

I used _Anarchy in the UK_ by The Sex Pistols as Mattie's ring tone for dear ole Dad. In case anyone was wondering, Mathias = Denmark and Nikolai = Norway. Also, you wanna know how Mathy got kicked out of his apartment? I don't plan on including it in the story, so it's not like it's a spoiler, it's just something interesting I thought I'd share: he showed up, knocking on his landlord's door because he lost his key, singing the Danish national anthem at the top of his Viking lungs, drunk off his ass, at 2 in the morning. Ten times.  
Nein, nein, mir geht es gut-No, no, I'm fine.  
Was?-What?  
Parfait, qu'il en soit ainsi-Fine then, be that way.  
Let's see, what else… beetenbartsch is, according to Google, a traditional East Prussian dish. It's beetroot soup with beef…and something else I can't remember. I knew I shouldn't have closed that window. Also, a Mercedes-Benz SLS AMG can go from 0-60 mph/97 kph in 3.8 seconds and has a top speed of 197 mph/317 kph. ChiCh—hold on a second, why do I keep signing off like that? I changed my pen name… Equilibrium out!


	4. Chapter 4

"C'mon Nikki—"

"Don't call me that." Mathias could picture Nikolai's flat expression.

"Just for a little while?" Mathias pleaded over the phone.

"I have class." There was the sound of someone talking in the background, and Nikolai answering quietly.

"You can come over after class!"

"I'll have homework." Nikolai pointed out. "And I plan on doing it."

"I'll help you! You've got a history class this semester, right? And you told me yesterday that you were learning about Nordic history. You know I'm an expert at stuff like that!" Mathias yelled. Peter scowled and adjusted his earbuds.

As much as it pained him to admit it, Mathias was right, he was much better at Nordic history than Nikolai. "I suppose I could come over for a little while. But weren't you evicted? Where are you staying?"

Mathias pulled a face. "With Berwald. His little boy-toy didn't want me to, but he talked him into it. And apparently they've adopted some brat since I last saw them. He's this little British kid named Peter. A complete asshole."

"I can hear you, you idiot." Peter snapped over his shoulder.

"Good. Anyway, you're really gonna come over?" Nikolai could hear the excitement in Mathias' voice, and could practically see his grinning face.

"I said I would. Idiot," he added for good measure.

"Don't be like that, Nikki!" Mathias continued speaking over Nikolai's protests. "It's not nice to call your boyfriend an idiot!"

"You are not my boyfriend. And you _are_ an idiot." With that, Nikolai hung up.

,,

"…Y-you're what? On such short notice?...Dad, I'm not sure that's a good idea…Al's coming too?" Gilbert listened boredly as Matthew spoke with his father. "…But _why_? You've never shown any interest in visiting before." Gilbert perked up a bit. Visiting? "…is Maman coming?...Okay…She is? Is she alright?...Oh…Tell her I said hi…Yeah, Al too…Bye Dad…Yeah…See you in a few hours…Uh-huh…Good-_bye_, Dad." Matthew sighed as he snapped his phone shut.

"What was that all about?" Gilbert asked, looking up from his absent fiddling with a thread sticking off of his shirt.

"Well, Maman's in the hospital. She fainted, and hit her head on the way down, but she's okay."

"You said something about visiting." Gilbert pointed out.

"Ah, yeah. Apparently Dad and Al are coming over. Today." Matthew slid his glasses off to pinch the bridge of his nose. "And they don't know how long they're going to be staying."

"Can't your brother see ghosts?" Gilbert wasn't sure if he should be worried or excited.

"Yeah…" Neither was Matthew.

,,

"Nikki! I can't believe you actually came!" Mathias crowed, picking Nikolai up and spinning him around.

"P-put me down!" Nikolai yelped, in a rather undignified manner.

"But Nikki! You're really here!" Mathias squealed, still holding Nikolai off the floor and pressed against his chest.

"Mmph!"

"Sorry." Mathias set Nikolai down more gently than was expected, but not before pressing an inconspicuous kiss to the top of his head.

Nikolai sighed, and glanced out the window. He noticed an extremely pale man with white hair lounging on the front porch of the house next door. Nikolai frowned. Something about the man seemed off, and it wasn't his albinism. "Mathias. Who lives there?" He nodded toward the house with the albino.

"A blond guy with a dog. I think it's a dog. That's the only thing it could be, 'cause if that _isn't_ what it is, then it's a bear." Mathias grinned down at Nikolai.

"Does he live alone?"

"Yeah, as far as I know. He's the only one I've ever seen over there." Mathias played with Nikolai's hair, which Nikolai resolutely ignored.

"I see." He looked back at albino. _I suppose he's a spirit, then. I wonder if the owner knows about him._ His question was answered when a slender blond man opened the door and looked down at the ghost. They appeared to converse for a moment before the spirit stood and followed the man back inside.

"C'mon Nikki! Let's do something fun!"

Nikolai then decided two things: 1) getting Mathias to stop calling him Nikki was a lost cause, and 2) Mathias' definition of 'fun' was probably going to involve something very perverted, very stupid, or very, very both.

,,

"Why do I have to come inside? It's nice out today." Gilbert whined.

"You're going to help me clean." Matthew informed him.

"Says who?"

"Says the person who hasn't called an exorcist to get rid of you." Matthew replied, tying a bandana over his hair and donning a pair of rubber gloves.

"Ouch. That's harsh, Mattie." Gilbert pulled out the cleaning supplies from under the sink.

Matthew smirked. "Bon garçon."

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

"Damnit! They can't be here already, can they?" Still cursing in a colorful combination of French and English, Matthew made his way to the door.

"Hello?" Matthew was honestly a bit confused by the man standing on his doorstep. He was slight, and pale, with blond hair parted to the side and a cross-shaped clip holding it in place.

"Hello. I noticed the…the _person_ sitting on your porch earlier. I would advise you against associating with his kind." With that, he turned and left.

"Well, that was strange." Matthew commented. "Was he talking about Gilbert? He must have been, he's the only one who's ever sitting on my porch. But he couldn't have been! Could he have…? But then that would mean that he can see…But he couldn't have been!"

"Who couldn't have been what?" Gilbert asked, walking up behind Matthew and putting his chin on his shoulder. Matthew jumped at the unexpected contact.

"Nothing, nothing. Come on, we need to clean."

Gilbert frowned. "It's not nothing. What gives?"

"Forget about it, Gilbert. Let's start in the living room. Why don't you go get the vacuum?"

"Matthew, don't change the subject. You looked like you were on the verge of a major freak-out. I get that some things aren't my business, if they aren't just tell me, and I'll back off. But when you just flat-out refuse to tell me something, it makes me wo—kinda paranoid, you know?" Gilbert nearly kicked himself, but Matthew hadn't seemed to notice his slight slip of the tongue.

"I'm sorry, it's ju—"

_BANG. BANG. BANG._

"The Hero has arrived!"

"Stop yelling, git!"

..

Maman means 'mom' in French. I think the idea of someone, anyone, calling Tino someone's 'boy toy' is hilarious.  
Bon garçon- good boy.  
I think that's everything. If you have any questions, or if I forgot to translate something, give me heads up! …I can't believe I'm updating twice in one day…Equilibrium out!


	5. Chapter 5

"H-hi Dad, Al. Y-you two are earlier than I expected." Matthew smiled nervously at his family.

"Don't just stand there, boy, let us in." Arthur said gruffly.

"R-right." Matthew stood back to allow them access.

"Wow! Your house is old!" Alfred yelled, barreling past his brother. He stood in the center of the living area and looked around. His eyes roved around the room, skipping over Gilbert entirely. At first.

His gaze jerked back to him. "Who a—wait. Wait. Y-you…you're…t-t-tr-translucent…a-and g-glowy…" Alfred stared at Gilbert and started to hyperventilate. "Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmy_god_ you're a ghost, aren't you? You are, aren't you? You're a ghost and you're haunting Matt. OH MY GOD YOU'RE HAUNTING MATT!" Alfred's breathing grew both quicker and shallower, and his face was almost as pale as Gilbert's.

"Well. I guess he wasn't just making it up for attention." Matthew ignored his brother's panic attack in favor of turning questioningly to his father.

"Bloody hell. I guess Ceilí isn't crazy. Wanker." Arthur added under his breath.

"So I take it you guys can see me?" Gilbert asked, leaning against the wall.

"GET OUT OF MATT'S HOUSE! THE POWER OF CHRIST COMPELS YOU!" Alfred howled, having snapped out of his earlier attack.

"The fuck are you talking about, 'the power of Christ compels me'? Is that supposed to make me magically go 'poof'?" Gilbert drawled sarcastically.

"Oh my god, Matt, there's a house in your ghost! And it's a fucking Austrian ghost!" Alfred spun to face his brother.

"Replay what you just said." Matthew suggested with a smirk as Gilbert 'keeseesee'ed in the background.

"I meant a ghost in your house! And how can you be so calm about it?"

"Very easily. And he's German." Matthew looked back at Arthur. "What did you mean when you said the Aunt Kayleigh wasn't crazy?"

"She'd always said she could see ghosts. I never believed her, but I guess now I have to." Arthur scowled at Gilbert. "What's your name?"

"Gilbert. Yours is Arthur, right?" Gilbert put on his best 'meet the parents' expression.

"It is. The twat passed out over there is Alfred." He motioned toward his oldest son.

"Mattie talks about you two sometimes. And if I've got my British slang right, you don't seem to have too high of an opinion of Alfie's intelligence." Gilbert gave Arthur a grin.

"It's how he shows affection." Matthew explained, crouching next to Alfred. "And apparently Al inherited Maman's tendency to faint."

,,

"I _still_ can't believe that there was a real live ghost living in your house and you didn't tell me!" Alfred whined. "He's all glowy and see-through and shit and it's creepy as hell!"

"Glowy and see-through? He looks like a normal person to me." Both brothers turned to stare at Gilbert, who resisted the urge to squirm.

"Everyone sees supernatural things differently." Arthur explained. "It only make sense that the two of you would see him differently." He absently petted Flying Mint Bunny, one of the creatures neither of his sons could see. "In fact, I see him as looking perfectly normal except for unnaturally pale skin, white hair and red eyes."

Gilbert scowled. "I'm an albino, jackass."

"An albino? Isn't that a white person who acts like they're black?" Alfred asked. Matthew face-palmed.

"Alfred, did you honestly just say that?" Alfred nodded. Matthew sighed. "Albinism is a genetic condition in which the body fails to produce pigment. It's characterized by pale skin, light colored or white hair, red or pink eyes, and often causes vision problems and sensitivity to light. That's why all of my light bulbs are such a low wattage."

"Oh. So I was wrong?"

,,

Nikolai frowned. He had somehow been talked into spending the weekend with Mathias. Tino hadn't minded, and Berwald hadn't objected either, so he had agreed. But that wasn't what he was frowning about.

It was the neighbor. Another car had pulled up beside the owner's red truck, and had been there all night. That wasn't the odd part, though. That prize was claimed by the unicorns sleeping on the lawn. They hadn't been there before. Also, they usually tried to avoid entering anything more 'civilized' than the suburbs unless they were following someone. Unicorns only followed those that could see them.

Which meant that the owner of the new car fell into that category. And if they could see unicorns, they could most likely also see the spirit residing there.

As he watched, three people emerged into the bright sunlight. Two of them, one the owner of the house, looked nearly identical. The third was both quite a bit shorter and significantly older. Old enough to be their father. The spirit leaned out one of the windows, hand held up to shield his eyes, and said something to the oldest of the trio. He turned, and they conversed a moment before he returned his attention to his sons.

Mathias sat up, squinting against the sunlight streaming in the open window. "Nikki?" Sleep turned his voice into a rasp. "Come back to bed. 's too early to get up." He tugged on Nikolai's hand.

"I have to do something." Nikolai freed his limb and set about getting dressed. He hadn't thought to bring a change of clothes, so he shrugged and pulled on yesterday's jeans. He was about to add his shirt when he noticed that it had been torn beyond repair the night before. Frowning, he pulled one of Mathias' shirts that didn't smell or look too bad off the floor to wear instead.

"You look sexy in my clothes." Mathias grinned. Nikolai ignored him as he left.

,,

"Excuse me." Arthur turned around when he was tapped on the shoulder. "Are you his father?" The elfin blond who had spoken pointed at Matthew.

"I am. What of it?" Arthur snapped back. His boys, oblivious to their father's distraction, continued walking around to Matthew's backyard, bickering as they went.

The man didn't answer, instead wandering over to one of the unicorns to stroke it's muzzle. Arthur started. "You can see them, then?" The man nodded.

"I am Nikolai." Arthur heard a soft trace of an accent too faint to place beyond Northern European.

"Artur. It's a pleasure." Arthur wasn't sure why he had given his Gaelic name, but some gut instinct had told him to.

"Are you aware of the spirit residing in your son's home?" Nikolai didn't believe in beating around the bush.

"Yes." Arthur left his answer simple, hoping to draw more information from the mysterious Nikolai.

"And do you approve of it?"

"What?"

"I am…a seer, of sorts. The secrets of the heart, hidden from most, are quite visible to me. I cannot predict the future, but I am privy to the most likely path of…of the red string of fate, if you will. And your son is tightly bound to that spirit." Nikolai's steady gaze was locked directly with Arthur's.

"I see. I suppose it doesn't matter if I approve, does it? What Matthew wants to do, he will."

"But you have the power to exorcise the spirit. The dead lingering in this world can only bring disaster and heartbreak for those that become attached to them. Do you really want to put your son through that?" Nikolai's voice was like a spell, soft and unbreakable.

"I—"

"Dad! Is that chick bothering you?" Alfred hollered, emerging from around the side of Matthew's house.

"It's fine. He was just about to leave. Weren't you, Nikolai?" Arthur turned to him.

"I suppose I was. It was a pleasure to meet you, Artur." Nikolai nodded politely toward Alfred as he left.

_The dead lingering in this world can only bring disaster and heartbreak…_ Nikolai's words echoed in Arthur's mind.

_We'll just see about that._

..

Ceilí- Gaelic version of Kayleigh. Kayleigh/Ceilí is Ireland. Scotland's going to show up, too, but not until later. Artur is Gaelic for Arthur. Let's see… Oh yeah, the 'isn't an albino…' question was actually uttered by someone that I, well I don't really know her, but she exists in my sphere of people, if that makes sense. But yeah. (This happened in the US, in case you were wondering…that sounds really dirty…) Anyway, as always, if my facts are wrong please tell me. Equilibrium out!

PS: If you didn't get the '…Austrian ghost…' thing, Arnold Schwarzenegger is a famous Austrian actor in the US. Part of what he's famous for is his accent. So, Alfred being Alfred, would assume that Gilbert was Austrian as well.


	6. Chapter 6

"Um…I don't know if this is, like, _personal_ for a ghost, 'cause I've never actually stopped to talk to one before, but, uh…" Alfred rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "How did you die?"

Gilbert winced slightly. "Tact isn't your strong suit, is it?" He sighed. "Well, it's nothing special, really, no big story to it. Someone broke in, bashed me over the head, and killed me. Simple as that." Arthur sat up a bit straighter, suddenly more interested.

"Who did it?" Alfred squeaked. "Who killed you? Were they ever caught? Was it someone you knew? Was it a family—"

"I don't know." Gilbert left it at that, hoping Alfred would drop the subject.

"But don't you wonder? I mean, if I was murdered, I'd stop at nothing to bring a hero's justice to the culprit!" Alfred jerked to his feet so quickly he knocked his chair over.

"Hero's justice? Kid, there's no such thing as heroes _or_ justice." Gilbert propped his feet on Alfred's overturned seat.

Alfred stuck his tongue out.

Arthur sighed. _So what he's saying is that he was wrongfully killed…I think, in that one grimoire, there's a section dedicated entirely to that…I know there's at least one spell I could use…I'll have to see if Ceilí and Bhaltair are busy…_

"Artie? You in there?" Gilbert waved his hand in front of Arthur's face. Arthur jerked back and started spluttering. Gilbert cackled. Matthew sighed.

,,

"Hey, Matt?"

Matthew groggily rolled over to face the source of the noise. "What is it, Al?" He slurred.

"Can I sleep in here tonight? Gilbert's really freaking me out." Alfred wrung the edge of his brother's quilt in his hands.

"Tell 'im I said to get out of your room." Matthew responded, tugging the fabric from Alfred's grasp.

"But he's not in my room! It's just, every time I close my eyes I _see_ him, hovering over me, glowing and laughing that freaky laugh!" Alfred chewed his nails as he gave Matthew his best puppy dog eyes.

Unfortunately for Alfred, Matthew wasn't wearing his glasses. "Go back to your own bed."

"But Matt! Please?"

"No. Go away." Matthew grumbled.

"Fine then. But when I start screaming and wake up all of your neighbors, I'm gonna tell them that it was _your_ fault." With a huff bordering on a sniff, Alfred left the room.

Matthew readjusted his blanket, and settled back into his bed. His eyes drifted shut and he had just about managed to fall asleep when he heard footsteps by his bed. "Alfred Freedom Jones, I swear to God, if you do not get out of my room this instant, I am going to prove to you that a puck isn't all that a hockey stick is good for hitting."

A low whistle cut through the dark. "Well damn, Mattie, and I thought I had family issues." Gilbert sat down next to Matthew's hip.

"Ugh. Can't anyone just let me _sleep?_" Matthew groaned, pulling his pillow over his head.

"Trying to suffocate yourself now?" Gilbert pulled the lump off Matthew's face with a smirk that Matthew-luckily for Gilbert-couldn't see.

"Gimme that back." Matthew ordered, swiping at it halfheartedly.

"Nuh-uh. 'S mine now." Gilbert sprawled across a make-believe bed, hovering over Matthew, pillow squished against his face, held tauntingly just out of the blond's reach.

"I could get Dad to set up some wards to keep you out of my room, you know." Matthew, defeated, slipped from his bed and shuffled to his closet.

"You-you wouldn't really do that…would you?" Gilbert had pulled himself into a sitting position and held the pillow close against his chest. He had sounded almost hurt.

Matthew pulled a spare from the depths of his closet and shook the dust off, wondering how so much could have accumulated in such a short amount of time. He looked up, to see that Gilbert had lowered his feet to the floor in front of the window and was staring out it, transfixed by the crescent moon.

"I didn't, didn't really mean that. I'm sorry." Both pillows lay forgotten on Matthew's floor as he approached Gilbert, guilt mocking him in his mind.

"What do you have to be sorry about? You're not the one that killed me, you're not the one who was more worried about the bloodstain on the floor than the dead brother that caused it, you're not the one who's so pathetic that he couldn't give up his sad excuse of a life and pass on." Gilbert slammed his palm against the glass, blocking the moon. He turned to press his back to the wall and slowly slide down it.

"Can't I just be sorry that I upset you?" Matthew sat on his heels across from Gilbert.

Gilbert laughed quietly, a low, rough sound. "You're too damn nice for your own good, you know that Birdie?"

"I-I didn't know there was such a thing." Matthew smiled hesitantly, crawling across the floor to sit shoulder-to-shoulder with Gilbert.

"There is. In fact, if you look it up in the dictionary, it'll show a picture of you." Gilbert teased as he poked Matthew's arm.

"A good one, I hope." Matthew's smile broadened.

"Nope, nope, of course not. It's the ugliest, most unflattering picture of you in existence." Gilbert giggled at Matthew's over-the-top expression of horror.

"Oh, quelle horreur!" Matthew faked a swoon, back of his hand held to his forehead. Gilbert chuckled.

"We should quiet down, before your family wakes up." Gilbert somehow managed to speak through his cackling.

"Probably." Their eyes met. They burst into choked laughter, both trying to be quiet, neither succeeding.

"Alfred!" Arthur bellowed, barely audible through three separate walls. "Some people are actually trying to sleep! Must you always make so much noise?"

Matthew and Gilbert started laughing even harder when Alfred yelled back that he was asleep.

"Is your family always like this?" Gilbert asked breathlessly, leaning lightly against Matthew.

"Pretty much. Although it does tend to be worse when Maman is around." Matthew's stomach flipped at the way Gilbert was pressed against him, but he ignored it. "What…what was your family like?"

"We fought. A lot. It was fun, though, when we were all together. Mama would always make the most delicious, well, anything, and Papa would tell stories about his Italian friend, and all the trouble they got into when they were kids. Ludwig would be obsessively cleaning the whole time, and I'd make messes just to annoy him." Gilbert grinned at the memories. "Yeah…it was fun."

"It sounds nice." Matthew murmured, still smiling.

"Hm." Gilbert answered noncommittally. He sat up suddenly, and Matthew mourned the loss of his presence for all of five seconds before Gilbert shifted them both around so that Matthew's head was on his lap.

"Wh-what?"

"I figure, since I took your pillow earlier, it's only fair to replace it." Gilbert told him. "Now settle down and quit squirming before I change my mind." Matthew stuck his tongue out, but stilled nonetheless.

After a near eternity of silence, in which he assumed Matthew fell asleep, Gilbert began humming softly as he ran his fingers gently through Matthew's hair.

"Gilbert?" His hand stilled.

"Yeah?"

"How do you say 'good night' in German?" Gilbert resumed his petting.

"Gute Nacht." The words felt familiar on his tongue, like the lyrics to a favorite song.

"Okay. Gute Nacht, then." Matthew whispered.

"Gute Nacht, Vögelchen."

,,

Mathias grinned as he walked confidently through the front door. The key, he'd found, to not getting caught doing something was to act like you weren't. He looked around the unfamiliar house, taking in the long hallway, the pleasant, cheery décor.

As he sauntered into the alien dwelling, he took in the new sights it had to offer. _Man_, he thought, _it's good to be home._

..

Cliffhanger! Woot!  
Okay, so I know I made Ludwig seem like a heartless asshole, but see it from his perspective! If he's focusing on the blood, instead of what caused it, he doesn't have to accept the fact that his brother is dead. After he got finished cleaning, he went straight to a bar and got completely smashed, then went to Feli's house and cried 'till he fell asleep/passed out. Um, what else…  
Vögelchen-Birdie. I think it just sounds cuter in German.  
Oh, quelle horreur!-Oh, how horrible!  
Has anyone else ever noticed that everything sounds more dramatic in a Romance language? Seriously, you should try it sometime. Say/listen to something in English, and then say/listen to it again in a Romance language of your choosing. It's true, isn't it? Even if they're both said in exactly the same tone…Did any of you all hear about those Germans at that airport? I don't know many details (my local newspaper only had a tiny blurb about it, apparently they don't want to encourage them), but they were protesting the new body scanner things. A group got together and stripped at an airport.  
But enough rambling. Equilibrium out!


	7. Chapter 7

"But Da-_aad_, do we _reeaallyyy_ have to go so _soooon_?" Alfred whined.

"It's not his choice. I'm kicking the both of you out of my house." Matthew suppressed a grin. Alfred didn't know that he and Arthur had already discussed when the two of them would leave.

"Matt! Whatever happened to brotherly love?" Alfred cajoled.

"We never had any." Matthew responded flatly.

"But, but!" Alfred summoned tears. Matthew started laughing first, Arthur following soon after.

"Al, do you really think I'm that heartless? I'm not making you leave at two in the morning, although I _might_ change my mind if you don't stop barging into my room every half hour." Matthew crossed his arms over his chest, obscuring the faded logo on his too-large t-shirt.

"But the last time I came in Gilbert was molesting you!" Alfred protested.

"Molesting me? He wasn't even touching me!" Matthew snapped back.

"I could see the intent in his eyes!" Alfred insisted. Arthur sighed.

"How about this? Alfred, you go to bed and leave your brother alone. Matthew, _you_ go to bed and leave your brother alone. And I will go to bed and leave both of you alone." Arthur's prodigious brows lowered.

"That sounds like a _very_ good idea. Al, Dad, good night." With a tired wave, Matthew trudged back to his room with the hope that he could return to sleep.

Gilbert had other ideas.

,,

"_Operation: Save Matt From The German Ghost. Commencing, now!" _Alfred whispered into his imaginary walkie-talkie. He slipped as silently as he could manage from his room, opening his door as little as possible, worried that the antique hinges might squeak. "_Mission objective: Make Gilbert go away. Mission status: incomplete."_

The hallway seemed dauntingly long, but Alfred persevered. He released a sigh when he successfully snuck past his father's door. He heard voices inside Matthew's room when he reached it. Pressing his ear to the wood, he bit his lip anxiously.

"Gilbert! Quit it! I am _trying_ to sleep!" Alfred heard the distinctive tone that Matthew's voice obtained when he was scolding someone.

"But Mattie! I'm bored!" Gilbert whined back.

"Then find something to do that does not involve harassing me. I have to get up tomorrow, you know."

"Why? Won't Artie and Alfie leave on their own?"

"No, actually. But tomorrow is also Monday, a day on which I have class. I did move here to be closer to Atlas University, after all."

"Aw, so it wasn't a subconscious desire to be closer to my awesome self?"

"Gilbert, I am going to say it one more time before I decide to get mad: either get out of my room, or be quiet."

"Fine, fine, no need to get so bitchy."

There was the muffled _fump_ of someone being smacked with a pillow, a bit of shuffling, and then silence.

Alfred nodded determinedly. _Operation: SMFTGG must be completed!_

,,

Arthur sighed when he heard Alfred 'sneak' past his room. _I could swear I raised that boy better than that. And I _know_ I taught him to spy better._

Shaking his head, Arthur pulled his phone off the top of Matthew's guest bedroom's table. He checked the time with a frown. _If it's seven hours ahead in Ireland, then it's…about nine-ish there. Ceilí should be up by now…_ Arthur scrolled through his contacts list until it reached his oldest sibling's name.

"Ceilí? Good morning." Arthur said pleasantly.

"Artur. Isn't it the middle of the night over there?" Arthur winced at the suspicious tone in his sister's voice.

"Well, I suppose you could call it that…" Arthur laughed quietly.

"What do you want, Artie?" Arthur winced again, both at the nickname and Ceilí's ability to guess his intentions, even over the phone.

"Well, there's this spell I've been thinking of casting, but it requires a pentagram. I'm fairly certain I can get my boys to help, but I'd still need two more people. I was hoping that you and Bhaltair could assist."

"Hmm. That would depend. What kind of spell is it?" Arthur could detect the interest in her voice, and mentally cheered, but silenced when he heard the question.

"Well, it's not really one that I'd like to discuss over the phone. It is, however, very important to one of your precious nephews and one of my precious sons. Isn't that really all you need to know?"

"Not something you want to talk about over the phone…? I guess I could swing by. The company jet's free all week. Where will you be?" Ceilí smiled as she pictured Artur's relieved expression when she didn't pry.

"The house in Massachusetts. And I'll have Bhaltair call you, if he can come. Could you pick him up?" Arthur was already running through ways to convince his brother to help him.

"Sure. When do you want us?"

"How about Wednesday? But you'll probably need to stay for a few days."

"Not a problem. I'll just tell Boss that a family issue's come up. He knows that you married a Bonefoy, so he won't ask too many questions."

"Thanks, Ceilí. You don't know what this means to me. See you soon. Bye." Arthur hung up before she had a chance to respond.

_And now to call Bhaltair…_

,,

There were some times when Gilbert hated the fact that he was no longer capable of sleep. Other times, not so much. Watching the gentle rise and fall of Matthew's chest, he decided that it was definitely the latter.

Matthew mumbled something in his sleep, slurred to the point that Gilbert couldn't recognize the language, let alone the words.

_I wonder what you're dreaming about._ Gilbert mused. He gently brushed Matthew's bangs back, pleased when he didn't stir. _I wonder what I would dream about, if I could. I bet it would be about you._ With a soft, self-deprecating smile, Gilbert kissed Matthew on the cheek, and wondered if he would ever have the chance to do the same to his lips.

,,

"Bye Matt! Don't get in any trouble! But if you do, don't hesitate to give the Hero a call!" Matthew rolled his eyes at his brother, but returned his hug.

"Yeah, yeah. Just leave Ivan alone, okay? I don't care how good a fighter you are, if you mess with him, the whole hockey team'll gang up on you." Matthew warned Alfred, remembering the large Russian that he always seemed to have a problem with.

"But he started it last time! And the time before that! _Every_ time!" Alfred protested.

"I don't care. The only reason you didn't end up in the hospital last time was because I was there. Well, I won't be next time." Matthew pointed out.

"I would have been fine on my own." Alfred pouted, but left it at that.

"See you, Dad. Drive safe." Matthew hugged Arthur, who blushed, but returned it.

"Yes, well. You too. B-be safe, I mean." Arthur stammered, still unused to displays of affection.

After another round of awkward good-byes, Alfred and Arthur finally left.

"Whew. I can't believe I finally got rid of them." Matthew flumped onto his couch as he spoke.

"Yeah. Seemed like they were here for two months instead of two days." Gilbert agreed, emerging from the kitchen, where he had escaped to avoid the possibly emotional departure.

,,

Mathias stretched boredly. The mailbox, labeled 'Perez' was hot pink, but the house was otherwise normal.

As he ambled unhurriedly into the living, Mathias scouted for valuables. _Let's see, that's a pretty cheap looking TV, but those're some niiice cigars…_ Mathias ran his fingers over the items in question, examining their high quality. _Probably couldn't sell 'em, though._ Despite that, he tucked them neatly into his pocket.

Unwilling to repeat the last time he had broken into a house that had someone in it, Mathias listened carefully, relieved when he heard no one.

_That's an awful expensive stereo system._ Mathias noted with a smirk. _Maybe I should…_relieve_ him of it. _Mathias wandered to the kitchen. _Nice looking knife set._ His gaze flicked back to the hall. _And that painting looks like it's worth something._

Relinquishing the picture from the wall, Mathias didn't notice the sound of the door opening.

..

Wow, this chapter's really long…  
Okay, so Alejandro Perez=Cuba. The reason his mailbox is pink is because it was Felix's house first. Yeah. I love writing familial interactions. My own family situation is weird enough that it's pretty easy to write a skewed family dynamic. Actually, normal families are what I have trouble with.  
Okay, quick question: which two characters would you like to have cameos? I need one for a serious role, and one to be a mysterious character. Any suggestions?  
Equilibrium out!


	8. Chapter 8

"…there's got to be a way…I know there is…I saw that spell in here just last week!" Arthur continued flipping irritably through his spell book. "It's got to be in here!" He was on the verge of throwing the grimoire across the room when he saw it.

"There you are, sneaky little…" Arthur trailed off as his eyes roved the page. "…a clear night…waxing half-moon…yes, this is the spell I thought it was…I _do_ need a pentagram…my family's perfect for this incantation…"

,,

"I hate school. Remind me again why I _want_ to go to college?" Matthew groaned, flopping onto his couch and tossing his backpack to the side.

"Because you want to be a…I don't know, you never told me what you're majoring in." Gilbert scooted a little bit, to make more room for Matthew.

"Archeology, with a minor in…something. Do you think it's bad that I can't remember the name of my minor?" Matthew rolled his head along the back of the couch to look at Gilbert.

"Not really. I _completed_ my minor, and I can't remember what it was." Gilbert gave Matthew a smirk, made lopsided by the angle at which they saw each other.

"That makes me feel like less of a fraud." Matthew sat up slowly. "I should do my homework." He retrieved his discarded backpack to dig his books out of it. "Let's see, I've got…actually, except for that paper that isn't due for another week, I don't have any homework. Well, I should probably study, but that doesn't count."

,,

"I wonder why Al didn't ask to read your palm." Matthew continued stirring the stew, as if he hadn't just said something confusing.

"What?" Gilbert looked up from the carrots he was cutting.

"Al. He can read palms, so it's strange that he didn't want to read yours." With a testing sniff of the broth, Matthew reached into the cupboard for more seasonings, what he wasn't yet sure.

"Uh, okay." Gilbert returned his attention to the carrots. "Is he any good at it?"

"Yeah. Everyone in my family, on Dad's side, has at least one thing they specialize in. I guess it fits that someone as nosy as Al can read a person's past, present and future just by looking at their hand."

"Huh. That does kind of fit. What about everyone else?" The only one Gilbert really cared about was Matthew, but he didn't want to out-right ask.

"Well, Dad's is casting circles, Aunt Kayleigh can control the weather, Uncle Walter's protection spells are basically unbreakable, Grandpa can speak to some animals, and my cousin Justin is the only person I've ever met who can cast a successful mind-reading charm."

"Mind reading…? I'm glad _he_ didn't come visit you. Where does he live?" Gilbert scraped the carrots into the pot.

"Romania. He gives tours of all those old castles in the mountains. I wonder if he would have been able to see you." Matthew stirred the vegetables into the savory-smelling broth.

"I dunno. What's your 'specialty'?" Gilbert had been reluctant to be so direct, but his curiosity was getting the better of him.

"Oh. Uh, well, it's, uh, s-summoning." Matthew ducked his head so that his bangs hid his face from view.

"Summoning? Summoning what? And what're you acting so embarrassed for? I think it's pretty awesome." Gilbert elbowed Matthew gently.

"I-I can summon just about anything with the right set-up. Demons, nymphs, Spirit Animals, people even, if it's someone I know well. But anyway! I'm not acting embarrassed! It's just that, summoning is…really rare, for an innate talent. I-it used to be considered an ill omen. My grandmother was really superstitious, a-and she didn't expect me to live past eighteen. I-I did, obviously, but she died the day before my birthday. And Uncle André, on Maman's side, gave me a family heirloom when I turned fifteen. He was killed in a car accident three days later. Th-the list just goes on."

"Past eighteen? You barely look seventeen! How old are you?" Gilbert deliberately tried to change the surprisingly depressing subject.

"I'm twenty-two, thank you very much. How old are _you_?" Matthew blurted the question before he could think it through.

Gilbert stared at him for a moment. "I was twenty-four when I died. I don't think I've aged since then. I'm not even sure how long it's been, actually."

"Oh. I wasn't thinking. I'm so—"

"If I hear you apologize for something that isn't your fault one more time, I swear I'll never speak to you again."

Matthew winced. "I—okay. Okay."

Gilbert sidled closer to Matthew, liberating the wooden spoon from his grasp and gesturing towards the stew. "It'll scorch if we don't stir it." He pointed out, doing just that.

"R-right." Matthew could feel Gilbert's chest pressing against his back, the soft brush of his hair against his cheek. It was making him vaguely dizzy and he wasn't sure why.

Gilbert was paying more attention to the heat emanating from Matthew's face than he was the stew. _I wonder what he'd do if I…_ Never one to leave theories untested, Gilbert unabashedly placed his hand on Matthew's hip.

Matthew jumped, and jerked away. "H-haven't you ever heard of p-personal space?" He demanded, face redder and voice higher than he would have liked.

"Nope."

,,

"You know, considering that this a basically a Frankenstein creation, this stew's pretty good." Gilbert slurped the last of the food in question.

"Mm-hm." Matthew agreed absently, savoring the unexpectedly pleasant flavor.

"So, it's your turn to do the dishes, right?" Gilbert wheedled.

"Not getting out of it that easily." Matthew answered, pushing his empty bowl into Gilbert's hands.

"Damn. Can't blame a guy for trying, though." Gilbert grinned. Matthew rolled his eyes.

"Don't forget to put the clean dishes away."

"Yeah, yeah."

Matthew watched Gilbert shuffle into the kitchen, smiling slightly and not sure why.

"Verdammt!" Gilbert yelped, feet catching over Kumajirou's hind paws. He dropped the plates as he slammed into the wall, and heard a hollow, dusty crack, accompanied by the sound of ceramic shattering. His foot sunk back when it should have hit wood, his toes bumping something with a dull edge. "The fuck happened?" He mumbled, stumbling forward and turning to look, while absently avoiding the broken crockery.

There was a hole in the wall. Not a particularly large one, but a hole, maybe half a foot to a side. The edges of it looked sanded, as if it was meant to come out. The piece of wood that had once covered it had broken in half, though Gilbert could see a small hollow that could have been used as a handle to open it with.

"Huh. Never knew that was there." Gilbert muttered as Matthew poked his head in to see what all the noise was about.

"What are you ta—what's that? Is that a _hole_ in my _wall_? Gilbert." Matthew faced his kind-of roommate with a sharp expression.

"Yes and no." Gilbert rocked back on his heels, still crouching. "I think it was a like a secret hiding spot, see how that's been smoothed down? It's supposed to open, but when I kicked it, I broke the little door-thingy. And what's this?" He leaned forward, gingerly picking up a dust-covered object. "Hm. What do you think it is?" He held it up for Matthew's inspection.

"Ah, it looks like a miniature of a traditional Danish battle ax, except duller." Matthew slid it from Gilbert's grasp and turned it over in his hands.

Gilbert watched Matthew examine the oddly colored object. "Is it supposed to have that dark splotch on it?"

"What dar—oh, that." Matthew frowned at it, remembering similarly shaded artifacts at the site of an ancient battle. "It, it looks like…like a bloodstain…"

,,

Mathias groaned and flopped back onto the bottom bunk. _Least it's a small town…if it were any bigger, I probably wouldn't have the whole cell to myself,_ he mused as he looked around the dreary room.

"Stupid Perez, had to get home so early." Mathias rolled onto his side, still whispering to himself. "All that staking out for nothing."

_I wonder if Nikki'll bail me out…_

..

There we go, chapter eight done! Okay, random thing I've been meaning to tack onto my author's note: All of you should go read _The Less Than Epic Adventures of TJ and Amal_. It. Is. AWESOME. That is all I have to say on the matter.  
Verdammt-damn.  
Anything else…? Oh yeah, when Mattie's talking about his Uncle Walter, he's also talking about Bhaltair. (Bhaltair=Gaelic for Walter) Also, his grandparents, cousin Justin, and uncle André aren't countries, they're just random OC's to fill out his family a little more. Half a foot is about fifteen centimeters.  
Anyway, Mathy got arrested for B&E, in case you couldn't tell. It was kind of vague…not really sure how to fix that…I still want your opinions on the cameo thing! Equilibrium out!


	9. Chapter 9

_I look around anxiously. I am fairly certain the house is empty, but I still have a voice taunting me in the back of my mind. I slide my ax from my pocket as my eyes rove the kitchen. I notice what looks like a hidey-hole set low down in the wall. The edges look dusty, as if it hasn't been used in a long time. There is a note taped to the refrigerator. The handwriting is neat and precise, but I can't read it. I think it's in German. _

_The stairs creak under my feet. I wish them to be silent, but they ignore me. I reach the top of the steps and examine the short hallway. There are three doors, and I immediately enter the one nearest to me._

_I think it's the master bedroom. The bed is neatly made, and everything is in place. It almost looks like no one lives in it._

_I hear the distinctive sound of someone on the stairs. Silently cursing my luck, I peer out of the door. I can see the crown of a silver head rising. I dart across the hall to await their arrival. _

_A man reaches the top of the steps and looks around. Before his gaze can reach me, I instinctively swing out with my ax. The blunt edge connects with the back of his head, and he goes down hard. Relief that he hadn't seen my face escapes me in the form of gasping laughter. It silences when he shifts slightly and suddenly he is falling down the stairs, as boneless and lifeless as a ragdoll. I hear a sickening crack, more deafening than the sound of my ax, and then all is silent._

_Is he dead? I can't tell. Damnit, this wasn't part of the plan! He can't be dead. Damnit!_

_Heart pounding, I take the steps three at a time, carefully avoiding the blood. Blood…my stomach turns, and will power is all that stops me from throwing up._

_I swing back into the kitchen. I can't keep the ax, it's proof-positive that I did it. I rub the handle down with my shirt, but leave the head alone, unwilling to disturb the congealing maroon liquid. The hole I had noticed before catches my eyes. I tug it open, and notice that the interior is both dusty and empty. I doubt the owner of the house even knows about it, let alone uses it. I toss the ax in, and carefully close it._

_I look around one last time, running through my head all the things I might have touched while I was here. Nothing comes to mind, so I leave the same way I had come in: the front door. I wonder if anyone looking would be able to tell that I was frightened, so scared…_

Mathias rolled over on his bunk. "I hate that dream," he muttered, but he knew better, knew it wasn't just a dream. "It was an accident, damnit," he hissed, thin pillow pulled against his chest. "I…I never meant to…" _I never meant to kill anyone…_

,,

"So what're you gonna do with it?" Gilbert gestured to the small ax Matthew held.

"Throw it away. It's not worth anything, you know? It's just a replica." Matthew skittishly avoided the dark stain.

"Yeah, I guess. But, uh, don't you think you ought to call the cops, or something? You _did_ say it was blood-stained."

"Well, yeah. I did. But I was looking at it, and I think it's animal blood. See where it is? That's about where it would be if it were used for slaughtering something. I doubt it was always this dull. It was probably used by one of the family who lived here before I did, in traditional things. Maybe to help remember Viking heritage, or something." Matthew dropped it into the trash can, with the hope that he could just forget about it.

,,

"Hey, Alfred!"

Matthew turned to face the familiar voice. "Hello, Alejandro. I'm not actually—" His words were cut off when Alejandro's fist crashed into his jaw.

"You put him up to it, didn't you? I bet you _hired_ him to break into my house. Stupid asshole, thought I wouldn't figure it out? Huh?" He slammed his elbow into Matthew's stomach. "Bet you thought it would be _funny_, didn't you?" Matthew stumbled back and pulled his arms across his abdomen protectively.

"Alejandro, please! I'm no—" Alejandro's foot connected with his side, and Matthew never hated his brother more.

,,

"Welcome home, Ma—oh my God, what happened? Mattie? Mattie, are you okay?" Gilbert grabbed Matthew's arm as he stumbled in the door, but released it when he winced.

"It's nothing, I'm fine." Matthew managed to make it as far as the couch before he collapsed into a heap of battered flesh and torn clothing.

"Like hell you're fine! Who the fuck did this to you?" Gilbert snarled. His hands fluttered uselessly over Matthew, not quite touching, unsure of where his injuries lay.

"No one important. H-he thought I was Alfred. I really am f-fine." Matthew tried to stand. His head began to spin, and he grabbed Gilbert's forearms for balance.

Gilbert sighed. "Sit down and tell me how bad it is." He lowered Matthew back onto the couch and sat next to him.

"Really, I'm…" Matthew trailed off at the look on Gilbert's face. "It's not as bad as it looks. It was a beat down, plain and simple. I'll be bruised up for a while, but nothing's broken. It's not the first time something like this has happened, actually. Alfred's good at making enemies."

"Let me see." Gilbert demanded.

"What?"

"You said nothing was broken, but I don't know if I believe you. So let me see." Gilbert gestured toward Matthew.

"I…okay…" Matthew slid his jacket off and rolled up his sleeves. Gilbert raised an eyebrow. Matthew sighed and carefully removed his shirt. "Happy now?"

"Shit, Mattie, you look like you got worked over with a baseball bat." Gilbert frowned at the bruises covering Matthew's skin.

"Thanks, Gil, that makes me feel _so_ much better." Matthew crossed his arms self-consciously.

"Do you have any first-aid stuff?" Gilbert stood to fetch whatever was available.

"Um, there're some band-aids in the medicine cabinet in the smaller bathroom, and some peroxide under the sink in the kitchen." Matthew watched Gilbert jog from the room.

"Alrighty then, I've got everything. I grabbed some cotton balls, too." Gilbert returned to the couch.

"Th-this really isn't necessary." Matthew protested as Gilbert opened the bottle of peroxide.

"Like hell it isn't. Hold still." Gilbert dabbed a dampened cotton swab gently against Matthew's skin. "This might hurt a little," he warned just before brushing the swab over a stretch of raw skin. Matthew hissed quietly.

"You don't have to do this." Matthew whispered. Gilbert ignored him in favor of continuing with his rudimentary first aid. "Really, I'll be fine."

"Matthew, I am trying to focus, so could you _please_ shut up?" Gilbert continued cleaning Matthew's injuries.

"O-okay. Thank you." Matthew shifted to allow Gilbert better access to his back, and the myriad cuts and scrapes that covered it.

"Yeah, yeah." Gilbert was extremely glad that Matthew couldn't see him blush. "What's his name?"

"What?" Matthew turned his head to look at Gilbert.

"The guy who did this to you. What's his name?" Gilbert continued gently disinfecting.

"Oh. Um, no one important, just someone I've got a couple classes with. Aleja—he isn't really a bad guy. He was just mad at Al for some reason. That's all." Matthew absently rubbed the bruises on his arms.

"You said earlier that he thought that you were Alfred."

"Yeah. It happens a lo—ow! It happens a lot."

Gilbert discarded a bloodied cotton ball to sit back and examine his handiwork.

"All right, I think I'm done." Gilbert sketched his hand over Matthew's back, skillfully avoiding the worst of the injuries.

"Thanks." Matthew repeated. He put his shirt back on, trying not to pull too much on his sore muscles. "Gi-Gilbert?"

"Verdammt, Mattie. You scared me." Gilbert mumbled, Matthew pulled against his chest. "When you came in, I thought, I don't _know_ what I thought. You-you looked like you about to keel over." Gilbert buried his face in the crook of Matthew's neck.

Matthew hesitantly returned the embrace, arms wrapped loosely around Gilbert. "I…" He trailed off, unsure of what to say.

"I'm glad you're okay. I-I don't know what I'd do if you weren't." Gilbert whispered. Matthew could feel his lips moving

"Whatever it was you did before I came here, probably." Matthew lets his grip tighten slightly.

Gilbert just shook his head.

"Um…" Matthew drew back to look Gilbert in the eye. "Were you really that worried?"

"Of course I was. Why wouldn't I have been?"

"People, people usually don't care what happens to me." Matthew looked away.

"Yeah, well, fuck 'people', 'cause I care." Gilbert hooked his thumbs in the belt loops of Matthew's jeans.

"Thank you. For caring. For _everything_." Matthew leaned forward slowly, face crimson, and gently pressed his mouth to Gilbert's.

Gilbert hesitantly returned the kiss, and could feel Matthew's lips quirk into a smile. "You're welcome." Gilbert murmured.

Matthew pulled back quickly, suddenly self-conscious. His eyes flicked around the room, landing on everything but Gilbert.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that." Gilbert admitted. Matthew laughed quietly. "Seriously." Gilbert insisted.

Matthew pecked Gilbert on the lips. "I'm going to go take a nap. Getting beat up is tiring."

..

Matthew doesn't know what he's talking about, with the ax, I mean. Actually, he can't believe that he could have something in his house with human blood on it. So yeah. Um…still want those cameo opinions! What else…Did any of you read Epic? Awesome, right? If you didn't, you should. I don't usually advertise in my AN's, but this comic seriously needs more love. Equilibrium out!


	10. Chapter 10

Mathias looked up at the judge, the most pitiable expression he could muster on his face. The judge stared back, wide green eyes far more innocent than Mathias thought possible. He cocked his head, brown hair falling in curtains.

"So what is he here for again?" A Madrid accent lisped the man's s's as he turned to face the officer of the court, a scowling brunette.

"Burglary, _Your Honor_." The officer sneered in response, and Mathias heard what sounded like a trace of an Italian accent in his words.

"Oh! Right! I remember now! Thanks, Lovi!" Judge Carriedo beamed at the officer. Lovi glared back.

Mathias cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Right, right! Got to focus! Okay, so this is just to set your bail, right?" Mathias nodded. "¡Bien! Let's see, how about…oh, I don't know. Lovi, what do you think?" The judge turned to the still-scowling officer.

"Questo è il tuo lavoro, non mio." The man snapped.

"But Lovi! I _want_ your opinion!"

The Italian raised his hand like he was going to make a rude gesture, but stopped suddenly, as if realizing that he was still on the clock. He settled for a sharp snort instead.

Mathias watched the two, and abruptly began to wonder if he was ever going to get his bail set.

,,

"Ceilí, Bhaltair. I'm happy to see that you're looking well." Arthur hugged his sister, and gave his brother a manly handshake.

"You're not looking too bad yourself, Artur. How're your kids?" Bhaltair grinned at his younger brother, green eyes shining.

"They're fine, they're fine. Actually, Matthew _is_ part of the reason I've asked you here." Arthur looked between his siblings. "Have either of you ever attempted…a resurrection spell?"

Ceilí narrowed her eyes. "Those are forbidden, and with good reason. The dead aren't meant to return to this world." She crossed her arms as she stared Arthur down.

"Yes, I know that. But what if they never left? Besides, spells for the reanimation of those wrongfully killed have always been more of a…a gray area, if you will." Arthur locked eyes with Bhaltair, hoping to gain an ally.

"What's this got to do with Matt? You said he was okay." Bhaltair lowered his eyebrows.

"I suppose this requires a bit of explanation…"

,,

"Good morning, Professor Honda." Matthew waved at the slight man, and received a polite bow of the head in response.

"Good morning, Williams-san." Having never met Alfred, Professor Honda never mistook Matthew for his brother. "How have your classes been going?"

"They've been going really well, thanks. Um, I have to get to my geology class…"

"I apologize. I did not mean to detain you." Honda waved Matthew off with a slight smile.

"You…should probably be getting to class…too…" Heracles draped his arms over Kiku's shoulders as he spoke.

"I am free for another hour." Kiku leaned back slightly into Heracles' warmth.

"Do you want…to get some lunch?" Heracles felt the muscles in Kiku's neck tense as footsteps approached, and relax again as they receded.

"Yes, that would b—"

"Karpusi! Get your stinking hands off him!" Sadiq ordered, the part of his face that was visible twisted into a scowl.

"Why should I? He doesn't mind."

"Heracles-san, I don't think—"

"How do you know? Kiku's probably just too polite to tell you to fuck off!" Sadiq snapped.

"Sadiq-san, I really—"

"Yeah, but _I'm_ not too polite to tell you to crawl back under whatever rock you first came out of." Heracles and Sadiq locked eyes.

"If you weren't such a pansy-ass coward, hiding behind Kiku like that, I'd make you regret the day your whore of a mother gave birth to you." Sadiq spat.

Kiku felt Heracles tense just before he stepped around him to face Sadiq head-on.

"Mind saying that again, Adnan? Not quite sure I heard it through the sound of your bluffing." Heracles squared his shoulders.

"Bluffing? Oh, we'll see who's bluffing." Sadiq took a step forward.

"Heracles-san, Sadiq-san, is this really necessary?" Both men ignored Kiku.

"If the two of you don't back off _now_, I will be forced to arrest you for assault." Kiku, Heracles, and Sadiq all turned to face Vash, the head of campus security. "Professor Karpusi, Professor Adnan, I expected more responsible behavior from both of you, and will continue to expect it in the future. Are you going to disappoint me?" Vash tapped his nightstick against the palm of his hand, dark expression inscrutable.

"My apologies, Officer Zwingli. It won't happen again. My behavior was out of line." Heracles spoke before Sadiq had a chance to open his mouth.

"Mine as well. I'm…sorry." Sadiq ground out. It was almost physically painful for him to agree with Heracles about anything.

Vash nodded. "If I hear about the two of you fighting again, I _will not hesitate_ to talk to the headmaster. Is that clear?"

"Yes sir." Two equally disgruntled voices chimed in unison.

"Good." Turing sharply on his heel, Vash left.

"So, Kiku…what about our lunch?"

,,

Matthew sighed as he walked across the parking lot to his truck, turning his phone over in his hands as he did so. _How come the one time I actually want relationship advice, no one is trying to give it to me?_ Matthew pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand as he dug out his keys with the other. _Who should I call…? Al's out…So's Maman…And Dad…that would just be awkward. Not a family member, then. But who…?_

The sound of people arguing reached Matthew's ears, and he looked over to see Professor Honda, with Professors Karpusi and Adnan each hanging on to one of his arms. They appeared to be fighting over the top of Honda's head, and Honda himself looked rather…annoyed wasn't quite the right word, but he wasn't his usual impassive self, either.

Professor Gregg had ended his lecture early, having suddenly taken ill, so Matthew had the rest of the day off. Knowing that he would probably regret doing so later, Matthew decided to follow the trio.

,,

Teachers, as it turned out, were much more interesting outside of the classroom. The three profs had gone to café near the campus, where they had each ordered something different before settling into a table by the corner. Their waiter, a polite Lithuanian that Matthew had a class with, ignored their rather loud arguing. Apparently they were regulars.

"Don't worry about the bill, Kiku, I'll pay for you." Adnan leaned back on the bench next to Honda.

"Sadiq-san, that isn't—"

"Shut up Adnan, _I'm _paying for Kiku." Karpusi nodded firmly, sitting on Honda's other side.

"Heracles-san—"

"Like I'd let you! Besides, you probably can't _afford_ to pay!"

"Gentlemen!" Only Honda looked at Toris. "Who is going to pay?" He put his hands on his hips in a gesture reminiscent of his best friend and roommate, a cross-dressing Pole named Felix.

Honda silently pulled out his wallet and extracted the correct amount, along with a generous tip.

"Thank you, and have a nice day." Toris flashed the professors a polite smile before retreating to the back of the restaurant.

Matthew blew boredly at his bangs as he pulled his phone from his pocket. Going through the contacts list, a familiar name caught his eye.

_He came out of the closet ages ago…I was even the first person he told when he and Toris started dating…and I really do need someone to talk to…_Matthew pressed the call button and put his phone to his ear.

"_Hello?"_

"Hi Ivan. It's Matt. Do you have a minute?"

..

The judge was the serious cameo role. pretentious kneecap suggested Spain as they mysterious character, but I decided to use him for this instead. No one suggested Lovi, but it's hard for me to write one without the other. Also, I just really love writing Lovi. Ayla The Librarian requested that I put in Greece/Japan/Turkey interactions, and I like to write those three, so why not?  
However, I still need suggestions for the mysterious person!  
Did I use anything foreign that I need to translate…? Oh yeah:  
Bien-Good; okay. (Spanish)  
Questo è il tuo lavoro, non mio-That's your job, not mine. (Italian)  
Professor Gregg isn't a country. However, Matt's geology prof needed a name, so I used the name of my dad's geology teacher. Yeah. My fifty-(eight? nine?) year old dad is in college. He's after a double major in psychology and geology. Couldn't find two subjects that have less to do with each other if I tried.  
Anyway, Equilibrium out!  
Argh! I meant to publish this ages ago, but ff(dot)net was being a bitch and wouldn't load. Grr.


	11. Chapter 11

"Thanks, Ivan. You really didn't have to meet up with me on such short notice." Matthew smiled nervously at his best friend, hands wrapped around a mug of coffee.

"It is not a problem. You need to talk, da? I do not mind to listen." Ivan's imposing figure frightened many, but Matthew had always been able to see through to the genuinely kind person underneath.

"Well, before I start complaining about my life, how have you been?" Matthew sipped his coffee.

"I am well. My studies are proceeding nicely, and my grandparents have finally decided to re-write me into their wills, though they still do not believe that I am gay. They are very traditional, da? Not like your family." Ivan surreptitiously slipped a flask out from underneath his coat, and poured a small amount of the contents-probably vodka-into his mug.

"That's good. I'm glad they changed their minds about disowning you, but what about your parents? Last time we talked you told me that they said they never wanted to see you again." Matthew absently stirred his coffee, though unlike Ivan, he hadn't added anything to it.

"That is correct. They have also forbidden Katyusha from seeing me." Ivan frowned slightly. He had always been fond of his older sister. "Natalia as well, though that has not stopped her." He wished it had.

"Does she still want to…?"

"Da." Ivan shivered, and pulled his scarf closer around his neck. "But enough about me. What did you wish to speak about?"

"Well, um, I-I kind of need…relationship advice." Matthew fiddled anxiously with a packet of artificial sweetener.

"Little Matvey has finally found someone? I am so happy for you ! Is it someone I know?" Ivan cocked his head. The childish gesture seemed strange coming from a man of his stature.

"No, no, I didn't meet him until after I moved here."

"Him?" Matthew nodded. "What is he like?"

"He's…kind of immature, sometimes. But he can be really sweet. He's a good cook. Um…he freaked out when Kumalina started talking, but got over it quickly. He's pretty loud…and his handwriting is freakishly neat, which is weird, because he goes out of his way to make messes…and listen to me, I'm rambling." Matthew laughed quietly, both at himself, and the memory of the way Ivan had reacted to Kumajirou's speech. (Before that moment, he had no idea that Ivan always carried with him a short-barrel Baikal Margo MCM pistol.)

"I did ask." Ivan pointed out. "You said you needed advice. With what? I am always willing to help."

"With…everything." Matthew dropped his head into his hands. "I've never managed to keep a relationship for longer than a week, Ivan! You and Toris have been together for almost a year, you must be doing _something_ right!"

"Toris is more patient than most, da? He is hardly a representative of the general population. But I understand your dilemma. Perhaps you are not being assertive enough? It is frustrating to most to hold a one-sided conversation." Ivan patted Matthew's hair comfortingly.

"Mmph." Matthew responded without raising his head.

"Matvey, my English may be proficient, but I cannot understand you when you do not enunciate your words." Ivan smiled when he caught Toris's eye from behind the counter. Toris smiled back with a small wave.

"Can't you just let me wallow in peace?" Matthew mumbled.

"Nyet. You have asked for my advice, and I will give it. Look at me, please. It is disconcerting to speak to the top of your head." Ivan drained his coffee cup, and it was more than the heat that made it burn on the way down.

"Fine, fine." Matthew grudgingly lowered his hands and raised his face to look Ivan balefully in the eye. "Happy now?"

"Very. Is there anything in particular you wish me to advise you on?" Ivan drummed his fingers against the side of his mug, wondering absently if Toris was their waiter.

"I already told you, Vanya, I need help with _everything_." It was the fact that Matthew had called him by his childhood nickname more than anything else that told Ivan how important this really was.

"Why do we not start with your lover's name?" Matthew blushed and began spluttering a protest. Ivan ignored him. "It grows tiresome to repeat 'him' so many times."

"Gilbert. His name's Gilbert. And he's not my lover."

Ivan wagged a finger reproachfully. "Yet. Do not always be so pessimistic, Matvey. How far have you gotten with him?"

"I-Ivan! Isn't that a-a little _personal?_" Matthew's face turned a shade of red that would have put a cherry to shame.

"Da. But to know where you must go I must know where you have already been." Ivan grinned, and Matthew was reminded of the way he acted on the ice. It wasn't a particularly reassuring thought.

"You have a point, I guess. Well…we, we, um, we kissed last night. But that-that's it."

Ivan nodded thoughtfully. "Have your flirting skills improved since Maddox?"

"Wh-what? What does he have to do with anything?" Matthew stared at Ivan, the harsh fluorescent lighting reflecting from his glasses and hiding his eyes.

"More than you might think. But you did not answer my question." Ivan tapped the table a bit impatiently.

"I-I don't know. Probably not. _Why?_"

"Even if you are in a stable relationship, you must keep the other party interested, da? If you take him for granted, he will not hesitate to leave you." Ivan's point was painfully blunt.

"I suppose you're right…So basically you're telling me to flirt?"

"That is correct." Ivan nodded. "Would you like me to teach you how to flirt effectively?"

"I, um…" Matthew pushed his sleeves up to his elbows, in an effort to stop himself from picking the hems to a frayed mess.

Ivan narrowed his eyes. "This is a bit off topic, but how did you acquire those bruises? And do not try to tell me it was some sort of accident, I know that you are not that clumsy."

"I…You know Alejandro?"

"The Cuban man who mistakes you for Alfred?" Ivan frowned. He didn't like where this was going.

"Yeah. He, um, apparently Al did something, or he thought Al did something, and he…beat me up." Matthew tugged his back sleeves down over the marks on his arms.

"Are you alright?" Ivan let his worry show in his tone.

"Y-yeah. Gilbert patched me up."

"You went to him?" Ivan noticed that Matthew became even redder, if possible.

"Well, w-we kind of…live together. H-he's my roommate." Matthew wasn't exactly sure if Gilbert qualified as a 'roommate', but what else could he call him?

"I see…" Ivan tapped his chin.

"J-just some general advice would be nice. Some basic flirting how-to." Matthew wrung his hands absently.

"Hmm. How about a demonstration, da?" Ivan grinned devilishly.

"What?"

"Would either of you like some more coffee?" Matthew looked up in surprise, to see Toris hovering over him, smiling softly.

"Ah, yes please." Matthew scooted his cup closer to Toris, who filled it.

"How about you, Ivan?" The affection in his tone was evident, and Matthew couldn't help but to feel as if he was intruding on something.

"Would you rather I not have something else instead?" Ivan smirked at Toris.

"I'm actually a bit busy at the moment. But I'm free later, if you're still interested." Amusement flashed in Toris' eyes.

"Later is not soon enough. I am impatient, da?"Ivan tugged Toris down by the front of his shirt into a short, chaste kiss.

"Ivan! I'm at work!" Toris protested, but he was laughing.

"So? I know your boss does not mind." As if to prove so, Ivan leaned around Toris to wave cheerily at Elizaveta, the Hungarian woman who owned the café.

"That's not the point! It's unprofessional!" Toris insisted.

"Nyet. It would be unprofessional if we went into the bathroom and…" Ivan whispered something in Toris' ear that caused him to blush vermillion and pull away, sputtering in a rather scandalized manner.

Matthew leaned back into his seat, watching the two of them fondly.

The chime of a bell announced the arrival of more customers. Two men walked in. One, tall, blond and muscular, looked vaguely familiar to Matthew. The second, a slender brunette, was smiling blithely up at the first.

"Ah! Ludwig-san, Feliciano-kun, I did not expect to see you here." Matthew had honestly forgotten that Professor Honda (and his duo of admirers) was still there.

"Kiku. It's been awhile." The blond rumbled a greeting. Matthew caught a hint of a German accent curling around his words like smoke, and he suddenly realized why he looked familiar.

,,

"Hey Mattie." Gilbert barely glanced up from the book open on his lap. When no reply was forth-coming, he looked at Matthew with a frown. "What's up?"

"I…I think I just met your brother…"

..

Wow, chapter eleven already? I can hardly believe it…I went over to a friend's house yesterday. It was fun. We had samosas.  
This is a little off topic for this chapter, but I forgot to put it in any of the others: Bhaltair/Walter=Scotland. I-I totally forgot it…Anyway…  
Maddox=Hong Kong. It's the name that SpeakingThroughWrittenWords and Canadino use, and I love their SwitzerlandxHong Kong stories. Yes, I know, it's a weird pairing. It's probably the only crack pairing that I like enough to attempt to write it. (Key word being 'attempt')  
Da-yes  
Nyet-no  
I'm pretty sure that's it, actually. Equilibrium out!


	12. Chapter 12

"What? Y-you mean Ludwig? How did you know it was him?" Gilbert sat bolt upright, _Stranger in a Strange Land_ forgotten on his lap.

"Well, I just, he f-fit the description…remember how you were telling me that you never thought the two of you looked related, so you told me what he looked like?" Matthew tugged his gloves off and dropped them next to the remote.

"Tall? Blond? Muscle-y? Hyper Italian hanging off his arm?" Gilbert absently stuck a bookmark in the Heinlein novel as he put it to the side.

"Yes, yes, yes, and yes. Is muscle-y even a word?" Matthew knocked snow from the bottom of his boots before dropping them into an undignified heap.

"Are you sure it was him?"

"As sure as I can be without walking up and asking him who he is." Matthew sat next to Gilbert, skittishly making sure to put plenty of room between them.

"I thought you said you met him." Gilbert tolerated the distance for a full .5 seconds before he scooted across couch until they were so close their knees touched.

"Kind of. I was at Mosoly, that little café on campus, having coffee with a friend, when he came in with the real estate agent who sold me this house. I didn't recognize Mr. Vargas at first; it'd been awhile since I saw him. Anyway, Professor Honda was there, and he said hi to them, and I heard him say 'Ludwig' and it all just sort of fell into place."

"Honda? Tiny little Japanese guy? Always being followed around by Heracles and Sadiq?" Gilbert shifted uncomfortably for a second before he realized that he was sitting on his book. Rolling his eyes at himself, he dropped it on the floor.

"Yeah. He teaches Japanese at AU. Why? Do you know him?" Matthew could feel the warmth of Gilbert's leg against his, and suddenly wondered why he produced any at all.

"I think so. Ludwig was friends with him." Gilbert leaned back into the couch cushions. "I never really expected Westen to stay here. I mean, I didn't expect his life to just _stop_ because mine did, but I guess I figured he'd move out of the area."

"Vessen?" Matthew was a little confused at the sudden change in topic.

"It's just something I started calling Ludwig when we were little. It means West."

"West?" Matthew let himself relax a bit, glad to be home.

"Yeah. See, when we were little, our parents got divorced. My mom got me in the settlement, and moved to Dresden, in East Germany. Papa won Ludwig, and took him all the way to Kōln. They were basically as far away from each other as geographically possible while staying within the country." Gilbert sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. "All four of us met once every six months in Göttingen. I'd always say 'Wir gehen West!', 'We're going West!' and somehow, in my mind, Ludwig _became_ West, so I started calling him Westen. And he was little, right? He wanted to be like his bruder, so I became Osten. It was sweet, you know? Our parents thought we were crazy, but…" Gilbert shrugged. "It was our inside joke."

,,

"How are you going to talk your kids into this?" Ceilí put her hands on her hips as Arthur reached for his phone.

"Eh…" Arthur hadn't actually thought that far ahead.

"Al won't want to, because resurrection spells are forbidden, and 'Heroes never break the rules'. Matt's reason will be basically the same, except minus the 'hero' part. So how are you going to argue your case?" Arthur all of a sudden remembered why his sister was such a successful solicitor.

"Matthew will probably want to bring his…_friend_ back. And Alfred will want to help Matthew?" There hadn't been a question in Arthur's tone when he'd started, but the more he spoke the less plausible his idea had seemed.

"Look, you need Alfred to do the match, and Matthew for the summoning, both of which are key components in the spell. You're going to have to come up with something a hell of a lot better than that."

"Just drag them out here the day before we do the spell, get everything set up, and don't explain until the last minute." Bhaltair suggested.

"But what about Gilbert? He's the most necessary aspect of the spell, and he's probably bound to the house." Arthur swished the whiskey in his glass absently.

"Then we have to go to him. Show up the day before the spell, etcetera." Bhaltair nodded, as if his plan was the best they could come up with.

,,

Matthew groaned quietly as he rolled over to glare at his ringing phone. He recognized the ringtone, a song from a dramatic French musical. With a muttered curse, he felt around until he managed to locate the annoying device. "Bonjour, Maman," he mumbled, fighting back a yawn.

Gilbert leaned against the wall, listening to Matthew's side of the conversation. He perked up slightly when he heard his own name, and suddenly began wishing that he'd paid more attention when Francis had attempted to teach him French.

There was more soft speech, and then: "Hey, Gilbert, what time is it? I can't see the clock without my glasses."

Gilbert spared the faintly glowing numbers barely a glance. "Mitternacht." Silence, in which Matthew stared blankly at Gilbert. "Uh, midnight," he corrected.

There was a bit more conversation, before finally Matthew said, in the sweetest voice possible, "Au revoir, Maman," and hung up. "I love her, really I do, but that woman would talk the ear off anything that would hold still long enough."

"I'm just gonna have to take your word for it." Gilbert ambled over to Matthew's bed. "I couldn't understand a word of that," he added, dropping down next to Matthew.

"I could teach you, if you wanted." Matthew offered.

"Nah, it's hard for me to learn new languages. The only reason I speak English as well as I do is because it would have been really hard to take classes in a language I didn't know. Also, Ludwig and I had a deal: if we could both learn English before our sixteenth birthdays, I'd take him with me."

"Take him? Where?" Matthew moved to the side, to make room for Gilbert, should he want it.

"Here. I started going to Atlas U on scholarship, and switched out my student visa for citizenship as soon as I could. I brought Westen over as soon as he was old enough, because staying with me was a more appealing option than staying at home." Gilbert sat next to Matthew and maneuvered himself under the blankets.

"Oh. I don't think I could ever live with Alfred again." Matthew let himself be pulled against Gilbert's side, and ordered himself not to blush.

"Yeah, we fought a lot. Luddy's such a neat freak, and I'm, well, not." Gilbert slid lower on the bed, dragging Matthew with him, until they were both reclining rather than leaning against the headboard.

"I've noticed." Matthew said dryly.

"Aw, come on, I'm not that bad!" Gilbert protested, tossing an arm across Matthew's stomach.

"Not as bad as Al." Matthew conceded.

"Quit making fun of my housekeeping skills—"

"—lack thereof—"

"—and go back to sleep." Gilbert reached over Matthew to turn the lamp off.

"Fine, fi-i-i-ine…" Matthew yawned as he spoke. Gilbert grinned cockily.

Matthew rolled his eyes, and started to press his lips to Gilbert's cheek. Gilbert turned slightly and caught his mouth. Matthew hummed quietly in the back of his throat as he returned the kiss.

,,

"Hey, Antonio!" Lovino barked. Antonio turned to look at him.

"¿Sí?" Antonio smiled blithely.

"Are you…are you going again this year?" Lovino scuffed the toe of his shoe against the floor, suddenly finding the process quite interesting.

"I have to. You know that, Lovi." Antonio hugged Lovino close to him, and rested his chin on his lover's shoulder. "Francis is going, and I can't let him go alone. You know how he gets."

"Che. Whatever, bastard." But Lovino returned the embrace.

"Gracias, Lovi." Antonio buried his nose in Lovino's hair, and inhaled the sweet, warm, scent.

"Prego. Bastardo." Lovino muttered, pretending he wasn't pleased by the prolonged contact.

Antonio just smiled.

,,

"Jeanne…I won't be coming over tomorrow." Francis absently stroked Jeanne's hair.

"I know. Take care of Antoine, all right? He can't hold his liquor." Jeanne shifted, damp sheets sticking to her bare skin.

"I will. We'll probably be out all night."

"You mean like you were last year? And the one before that? And every year since the two of you started doing this?" Jeanne teased lightly, poking Francis' naked stomach.

"We're predictable, I get it, so stop jabbing me so hard." Francis swatted her hand away, carefully aiming it to land lower on his body. She ignored its new position, to Francis' dismay. "But…this is the first time someone has been living there this time of year. Feli was always nice enough, but I wonder if the new people will let us in…"

,,

"Come up with anything better yet, Artur?" Ceilí arched an eyebrow, though it didn't have near the same effect as Arthur making the same expression.

"Er…I was thinking of using Bhaltair's idea, actually…" Arthur fidgeted under his sister's gaze.

"I suppose it'll work. Does Matthew have the right kind of environment at his house?" Ceilí absently brushed her hair out of her face.

"He does. His backyard will work, and Bhaltair can put up a barrier to keep his neighbors out." Arthur ran through his mind the necessary elements to the spell, listing both things he already had, and the things he would need to acquire.

,,

Um, okay. It's done now. Here you go. I-I don't really like the way it turned out…but I hope you guys do!  
¿Sí?-Yes? (Spanish)  
Gracias-thank you (Spanish)  
Prego. Bastardo-You're welcome. Bastard (Italian)  
Mosoly-Smile (Hungarian)  
I'm sorry if any of the kissing scenes or the like seem awkward. See, I've never really been kissed. Yeah. It's, it's sad. Now you're thinking, 'what is she, twelve?' aren't you? Well, no. I'm in high school. Never skipped/failed a grade. I won't say what year, I'm too paranoid. I do not own _Stranger in a Strange Land_, but I do own a copy of it.  
I didn't notice until I was writing this chapter, but the abbreviation for Atlas University (the college Mattie's going to) is AU.  
I have a Spanish final coming up soon…¡Estoy muy nerviosa! ¡Necesito estudiar mucho!  
I didn't have the time to proof this as much as I'd like to, but I'm kinda in a hurry. I might fix and re-upload this later, but for now, please don't hesitate to point out anything you might notice!  
Okay, so Ayla The Librarian corrected my Italian, so here's the corrected version!


	13. Chapter 13

Antonio nervously switched the bouquet of cornflowers from hand to hand, as Francis anxiously twitched the box of beer back and forth.

"So…do you want to knock?" Antonio smiled hopefully at Francis.

"I would not wish to deprive you of the chance, mon ami." Francis replied quickly.

"But I might accidentally crush the flowers." Antonio shot back just as speedily.

"But I wouldn't want to crack the beer bottles."

"I really think _you_ should knock on the door, amigo. ¿Por favor?"

"No, I think it would be best if _you_ knocked, Antoine."

"No, really, _you_ should…"

,,

"How long do you think they're going to stand out there?" Tino cocked his head as he watched the two men arguing on his neighbor's front porch.

Berwald grunted a noncommittal response without looking up from his newspaper.

"TinoTinoTinoTino_Tino!_" Peter swung into the room, socked feet sliding on the hardwood. "He texted me, and he wants to go see a movie, and I _really_ want to go, but I don't want to say yes too fast and sound too eager, and _what do I do?_"

Tino put his hands on Peter's shoulders. "What on Earth are you talking about?" He could feel Peter shaking with excitement.

"Raivis! We've been texting all day, and he just asked if I wanted to go see a movie with him, and I haven't answered him yet, but I don't want to take too long, or else he'll think I've forgotten about him!"

"Who's Raivis?" Tino felt very out of the loop. Berwald's equally confused expression made him feel only marginally better.

"He's this really shy guy in some of my classes! He's Latvian, and he's really nice, and his brother is this super geek that can fix any computer, and he practically _made_ Raivis's phone, and it gets free internet, and free texts, and free calls, and free _everything_ and it's so cool, and Raivis is _really_—"

"Peter! Slow down! You said you wanted to go to a movie?" Peter nodded violently. "That's fine with me as long as you bring your phone. Do you know when?"

"Um…" Peter whipped his phone from his pocket and sent a lightning-fast text. A few seconds later, it buzzed a tinny version of _Yellow Submarine_ by the Beatles. Peter snapped it open. "The movie starts at five. Can I have dinner at his house?" Peter added the second almost as an afterthought, as he continued reading the response.

"I-I guess. It's alright with me. Berwald?" Tino looked at the man in question.

"Mm."

,,

"…no, Antoine, _really_, you should be the one to knock. You knew him longer, after all."

"Mi amigo, that might be true, but you were _friends_ with him longer. So _you_ should be the one that knocks."

"But mon ami, _you_ should knock _precisely_ for that reason."

"Francisco, you—"

"Can I help you, gentlemen?" Matthew swung his door open and stood with his hands on his hips.

"Euh…"

"Pues…"

"Do I know…Mathieu? Is that you?" Francis nearly dropped the beer. "You've grown! You were so small when I last saw you!"

"I-it wasn't that long ago, Francis…" Matthew was a bit embarrassed at having not recognized his second cousin immediately, but Francis didn't seem to care.

"¿Qué? Do you two know each other?" Antonio looked between them.

"He's one of Francine's sons. Mathieu, what are you doing here?"

"I live here…what are _you_ doing here?" Matthew remembered Gilbert telling him that one of his best friends was Francis Bonefoy, but it hadn't really clicked in his mind just exactly who that was until now. _The other one's probably Antonio._

"Y-you live here? You live _here?_" Francis gaped at Matthew.

"Um, yeah. You still haven't told me wh-what you're here for…" Matthew absently wrung his hands.

"A friend of mine used to live here. He, he died, and now it's tradition for myself and Antoine," Francis motioned toward Antonio, "to hold a sort of vigil on the anniversary. If we could just spend some time in your backyard, I promise we won't be too much of a bother…" Francis trailed off, looking oddly embarrassed.

"No, no, it won't be any trouble. Stay as long as you like. Y-you can even come inside, if you want. I won't make you stay out in the snow, especially if you're going to be drinking." Matthew motioned the duo through his doorway.

"I…merci, Mathieu."

,,

It felt like a punch to the gut. That was the only comparison Gilbert could come up with when he saw Antonio and Francis step into his house.

"Francis…T-Toni…" He had known they were coming, of course. They did every year. Gilbert had never bothered to keep track of how many times because honestly, he didn't want to know. But never, _never_, had they come inside before.

Gilbert had still been able to see them when they were outside, of course, laughing and crying and getting drunk on imported German beer all at once, sitting next to make-shift memorial and a posy of wilting cornflowers. But before it had always seemed so, so _distant_. Detached.

The moment Matthew had opened the door, that had all changed. It was scalding water and freezing wind and soulless screaming and a tombs' silence, chipping away at his sanity like a mason in fast-forward.

Gilbert pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, unwilling to do something so weak as _cry_.

But they were so close! He could smell Francis' expensive cologne and the faint scent of tomatoes that always seemed to linger around Antonio. If he wanted to he could reach out and _touch them_.

And yet, despite all of that, it was the look on Matthew's face that was somehow the worst. It was gentle and sweet, but Gilbert could see past the painfully polite façade. Matthew's gaze kept flickering from his guests to Gilbert and back again, unwilling or unable to focus on either of the two.

Gilbert knew that, for whatever reason, his distress was causing Matthew pain, and that hurt as much Francis and Antonio walking past him without so much as a glance.

,,

"It's different when we're inside…it almost feels like he's closer to us…like he's here, watching us…" Antonio took another swig of his fourth beer. His palm had warmed the glass neck of the bottle, but the liquor inside it was still cold.

"I understand. It almost seems like he's sitting here right next to us." Francis agreed, his own beer nearly empty.

Sitting across from the two of them, Gilbert began to giggle. He didn't notice when his gasping laughter became choking sobs, or when the two merged and became indistinguishable from each other.

He didn't notice, but Matthew did.

,,

"Alfred, pack up. We're going back to Matthew's house." Arthur stood in his son's doorway, arms crossed, siblings flanking him.

"Um, okay. For how long?" Alfred stood back to let his family in.

"Three days, a week at the most. Now hurry up! We haven't got all day."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm hurrying, I'm hurrying." Alfred wandered to his closet and pulled out his suitcase. "What are we going back for? It hasn't been that long."

"We have…_business_." Bhaltair grinned as he spoke, and Alfred was suddenly sure that he didn't want to know.

"Business that you are vital to." Ceilí added, crimson-painted fingernails flashing in the harsh fluorescent lighting.

"I'm done packing now. When are we leaving?"

,,

Matthew sighed as he shut the door behind Francis and Antonio. The growing line of gray along the horizon told him that yes, he had in fact sat up all night listening to two intoxicated men reminisce about his roommate in slurred, incomprehensible combinations of languages.

"Gilbert, they're gone." Matthew called softly. Gilbert had disappeared somewhere into the bowels of the house around midnight and hadn't been seen since.

"Yeah. I…I watched them go." Gilbert emerged through a wall, slowly gaining solidity as he drifted further from it.

"If I'm still here next year…do you want me to let them in again?" Matthew knew the question would hit a sensitive nerve, but it needed to be asked.

"I think I do. They are—they _were_ my best friends, after all. Once I, once I got over the shock, it, it was kind of nice, being able to see them again." Gilbert wandered close to Matthew, and put his arms around him. The quiet embrace was gentle and needy, sweet yet bitter.

"Alright." Matthew didn't give more of an answer, just held Gilbert and let him cry, tears like rain and breath like the tide, unrelenting and imperfect but necessary, so necessary.

When they kissed it tasted of salt and reminiscence.

..

This chapter took a long time to finish…  
Did anyone else notice that my writing style changed dramatically about halfway through? That's what happens when I write while sleep-deprived…  
Mon ami-my friend (French)  
Amigo-friend (Spanish)  
¿Por favor?-Please? (Spanish)  
Pues-(Spanish) It doesn't really mean anything. It's a nonsense syllable, similar to the English 'um'. At least, according to my Spanish teacher.  
¿Qué?-What? (Spanish)  
Merci-Thank you (French)  
Yes, that was implied SeaLat.  
That's about everything, I think…Equilibrium out!


	14. Chapter 14

"Get in the car, Tony, we're goin' on a _ROAD TRIP!_" Alfred hollered, tossing himself into his Ford and throwing his suitcase in the back. Mr. Tony opened the passenger side door quite a bit more calmly and clambered inside after him.

Bhaltair grinned and shook his head. _Al's just like me when I was that age,_ he mused, scratching behind Eddie's ears. The pygmy unicorn just rolled his eyes.

The sound of an engine revving snapped Bhaltair back into reality. He turned to glare at Ceilí, as she and Éimí smirked down at him from their perch in their cherry red Chevrolet. Éimí fluttered her wings a bit before settling on the headrest of the passenger seat.

"Fine, fine, I'm going, I'm going." Bhaltair assured his sister, turning the engine of his small rental car over with an absent wave.

"Well then, are we all ready now?" Arthur drummed his fingers impatiently against his steering wheel. Charlie leaned back in the seat next to him.

"If your family is anything like it was the last time we all got together, then no, they're not all ready," the rather cynical fairy noted.

Charlie had a point.

Alfred was still trying to get Mr. Tony to put a seatbelt on. Mr. Tony was in turn insisting that Earth vehicles did not have the ability to harm him, and that the seatbelt was thus unnecessary. Ceilí and Bhaltair were arguing. Eddie had slipped from Bhaltair's car and was wandering off in the general direction of the farmer's market, with the intention of causing some trouble. Éimí was following, knowing that this would most likely prove entertaining.

,,

Alfred slid low in his seat, watching his family bicker. _They're gonna be at this for a while…_ He dug his phone from his pocket and punched in speed-dial three. He put it to his ear and waited for Matthew to pick up.

"_Hey, Al. What's up?"_

"Not much. Just calling to tell you we're probably gonna be late."

"_Late? For what?"_

"Getting to your house. Duh. Did you forget about it already?" Actually, Alfred had no idea if Matthew had been told about their coming or not.

"_You're coming _back_? Why?"_

"I dunno. Dad 'n' Uncle Walter 'n' Aunt Kayleigh won't tell me. They just said to bring Mr. Tony."

"_Do they have their Spirit Animals with them, too?"_

"Yeah. Dad brought Charlie."

"_The grouchy fairy?"_

"The very same. Isn't he the one that Dad usually uses for summoning spells?"

"…_yeah, I think he is… What do you think he's planning?"_

"I have no idea. Looks like everybody's ready to go now. Talk later, bro." Alfred hung up before Matthew had a chance to respond. Watching Charlie flutter angrily about his father's head, Alfred suddenly wondered if their newest trip had anything to do with Gilbert. _I hope not…but why won't they tell me what's going on…?_

,,

Matthew frowned at his phone. "Gilbert, I've come to a realization."

Gilbert raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And what's that?"

"My family is the most cryptic when they're trying to state something plainly."

"Hm. I think that applies to most families." Gilbert shifted in his chair.

"Probably." Matthew conceded. "I wonder when they'll get here, though…Aunt Kayleigh will probably be able to see you…Uncle Walter, too, if Dad and Al are any indication."

"What do you think they're coming for?"

"No idea. Al said that they all have their Spirit Animals with them." Kumajirou shuffled into the room, as if he knew his kindred were being spoken of.

"Spirit animals? Do they talk too?" Gilbert patted Kumajirou's nose.

"Yeah. Uncle Walter's is a unicorn named Eddie, Aunt Kayleigh's is Éimí, a falcon, and Al said Dad's bringing Charlie."

"Charlie?" Gilbert inched to the side to make room for Kumajirou.

"A fairy. And I already told you about Mr. Tony, right?" Matthew watched Kumajirou making himself comfortable next to Gilbert, and absently wondered if he should be jealous.

"You told me that he was an alien."

"Yeah…he also really hates Dad…" Matthew stretched out across the couch and propped his feet up on the armrest.

"Huh. Maybe that signifies that Alfie feels the same way." Gilbert offered.

"I doubt it. Spirit Animals rarely mimic their masters' hidden emotions." Matthew watched a late-migrating flock of birds swoop along the sky-line.

"Who?" Kumajirou raised his head from Gilbert's lap.

"Matthew."

,,

Alfred's car idled at the red light. Mr. Tony was making a high-pitched whirring noise that Alfred ignored. He had long since learned that it was similar to human humming, and thus unimportant.

In the next car over, Eddie had draped himself along the dashboard. His short tail swished rhythmically, drawing stares from the occupants of the car behind it.

Ceilí, two cars in front of Bhaltair, leaned out of her window to yell something undoubtedly rude in Gaelic at the driver who had honked at her. Éimí circled the vehicle threateningly.

Arthur had put Charlie in a cat-carrier to prevent him from flying outside and causing a ruckus. He had also turned up his radio loud enough to drown out the fairy's protests.

Alfred sighed and slid down behind his steering wheel, glad that few would realize he was not only driving with but related to the freak show surrounding him.

,,

"I didn't know you knew how to write music." Matthew propped his hip against the table, looking down at the nearly filled sheet of paper.

"Yeah. My parents made me learn. Ludwig, too. I haven't tried to write this song before, though." Gilbert tapped his pencil against his temple, as if doing so would help him think.

"You're trying to write it from memory?" Matthew had never learned to read music, despite his mother's skill with it, and so had no idea what the song would sound like.

"When I was growing up, there was this one kid who lived next door to me. We were kind of friends, but we also kind of hated each other. Anyway, he was a musician. He composed this song for my family, like a Christmas present. He played it all the time on his piano, and I could hear him from my house."

"But why are you trying to write it now?" Matthew watched Gilbert chew on the end of his pencil.

"It's been stuck in my head lately, and sometimes playing it helps. But I can't play it if I can't read it. Roderich-the neighbor kid-could play any song perfectly even if he'd only heard it once and never seen music for it, but I've never been that good. He's the one that taught me how to play piano, even though he was a year younger than me." Gilbert wrote a few notes, stopped, erased one of the earlier ones and wrote another one in that looked exactly the same to Matthew.

"I don't have a piano." Matthew pointed out, though he knew that Gilbert was already aware of that fact.

"Well, no, but I figured maybe just writing it out would help. And it might, too, if I could remember how the stupid song went!" Gilbert dropped the pencil with an exaggerated sigh.

Matthew rolled his eyes. "Just calm down, I'm sure it'll come to you."

"So says you." Gilbert grumbled, but didn't push the matter further.

,,

"Looklooklooklook_look!_ We're almost there, Tony! I can almost see Matt's house from here!"

"Human dwellings all appear the same to me." Mr. Tony responded flatly.

"But look! You can see the roof of his house from here!" Alfred pointed at the old-fashioned shingled roof.

Mr. Tony muttered something in his native tongue that Alfred was sure he didn't want translated.

A small car drove the opposite direction of Alfred. He recognized Toris behind the wheel, and one of his younger brothers (_Raivis, maybe? That sounds right…_) in the backseat, sitting next to a blond boy of about the same age.

Alfred honked, and Toris waved back.

"Your human friends are unusual." Mr. Tony noted.

"Whaddaya mean? My friends are awesome!" Alfred protested.

"All humans are unusual." Mr. Tony amended.

Alfred couldn't think of a comeback for that, and so just shrugged instead. He was silent until _Poker Face_ started playing on the radio. He sang along. Loudly, not to mention off-key.

Mr. Tony just resumed his quiet whirring.

..

This took longer to write than I expected…but it's finished now! I hope you liked it!  
Let's see, I think that's everything. Equilibrium out~!


	15. Chapter 15

"Matt! Open up! _Maatt!_" Alfred banged on his brother's door.

"His car's not here." Ceilí pointed out, gesturing toward the empty parking space.

"Oh. Yeah. Alright then, GILBERT! Open the door! I know you're here!" Alfred continued beating on the innocent door.

"Jesus, Dummkopf, you don't have to knock so hard. I could hear you in the basement." Gilbert wiped what appeared to be sawdust off his face with a scrap of blue cloth.

"Well so_rry_." Alfred rolled his eyes. "Wait, Matt has a basement?"

"If he didn't have a basement, how would I have been able to hear you from it?" Gilbert tucked the cloth into one of the multitude of pockets on his cargo pants.

"You must be Gilbert." Ceilí said smoothly, stepping between Alfred and the ghost. "May we come in?"

"Who the hell're you?" Gilbert crossed his arms.

"Hasn't Matthew told you about us? I'm his aunt Kayleigh, and this is my brother Walter. I believe you're already acquainted with Arthur and Alfred?"

Gilbert snorted. "Where's the unicorn 'n the bird?"

,,

Matthew was trying to pay attention, really he was. But somehow, Professor Gregg's lecture wasn't anywhere near as captivating as the scenarios playing out in his head. _Damnit, I wish I didn't have to go to class today…what if they get there before I do…? _Images of Gilbert interacting with his family without himself there to act as a buffer flooded his brain.

Gregg cleared his throat loudly. "Mr. Williams, what is isostatic rebound?"

"Um…it's what occurs when the weathering of a mountain causes it to lift out of the asthenosphere." Matthew silently thanked every deity known to man that he had read that day's chapter of the book the night before.

"Hm." Gregg gave Matthew a warning look before resuming his lecture.

,,

One anxious hour later, Matthew bolted from the lecture hall, making a bee-line for the parking lot.

_Please don't be there. Please don't be there. Please don't be there!_ He skidded around an exhausted-looking car and promptly collided with something large, warm, and human shaped.

"…hello…" Professor Karpusi looked down at Matthew, green eyes reflecting tired amusement.

"Sorry! I-I wasn't watching where I was going. Excuse me." He scrambled past Karpusi, Honda either ignored or never noticed in the first place, and sprinted the last few yards to his truck.

"He's…in an awful…hurry…" Heracles noted as Matthew threw himself into his truck, engine started before he had even fully closed the door.

"I hope that there is nothing wrong." Kiku watched Matthew tear down the street, leaving impressive skid marks.

"I'm sure everything…will be alright. Matthew…is a smart boy."

,,

"Toris? Do you know anyone named Gilbert?" Ivan looked up from his laptop, and the psych paper he was supposed to be writing, watching Toris from under his bangs.

"No, it doesn't sound familiar. Why?" Toris continued absently flipping through his A & P book, barely even pretending to study.

"Matvey. He said that his boyfriend's name is Gilbert, and I am curious about him." Ivan pecked boredly at the keyboard, half-hoping inspiration would suddenly strike, the other half not really caring.

"Matthew has a boyfriend? He never told me." Toris leaned over Ivan's shoulder to check his progress, and wasn't really surprised to be faced with a blank Word document.

"Da. He asked me for advice." Ivan plucked the book from Toris' hands and opened it to a page at random. It appeared to be written in Latin, though Toris had before assured him that it was English.

Toris started snickering. "He asked _you?_"

"Of course. Who else does he have to ask?" Ivan placed the book back in Toris' lap.

"Well, no one, I guess. But you don't exactly have the best track record." Toris snapped the tome shut, having given up on attempting to cram anything else into his brain for the day.

"I do not believe Natalya counts."

Toris winced. "I wasn't talking about her. I was actually referring to Yao."

"Yao is…not the best example, da?" Ivan smiled almost nervously.

"You dated for a week, and after he called it off he ran away every time he saw you for almost two months."

"As I said, not the best example." Ivan snapped his laptop closed without bothering to properly shut it down.

"I hope you saved everything important." Toris eyed the manhandled electronic.

"I had not yet written anything, so I had nothing to save." Ivan pulled Toris into his lap and rested his chin on the smaller man's shoulder. "When will your bro—"

"Eww! Jeez Toris, get a room!" Peter grinned at them from the doorway, Raivis hovering behind him.

"This _is_ my room, and get out of it!" Toris grinned as he spoke, tone more playful than his words, and threw the nearest object (one of Ivan's shoes) at his brother's best (only) friend.

As the duo scrambled away, Toris could hear Peter saying to Raivis, "I'm glad your brother's gay, otherwise that might have been a stiletto."

,,

Matthew sighed as drove five miles over the speed limit down the highway, flicking his turn signal on as he neared the corner. _I hope they're not there…but what if they are? Then what am I gonna do?_ He ran his hand through his hair exasperatedly.

The sight of three vehicles in his driveway (two familiar, the third appeared to be a rental) assured him that he had, in fact, arrived too late to pretend that he wasn't home.

Pulling his truck into his yard for lack of a better place to park it, Matthew began playing reasons through his head as to _why_ they were there.

"Hey, Mattie! Guess what! You have a basement!" Alfred yelled from the porch as Matthew tugged the key out of the ignition and wondered if he was fast enough to make a run for it.

"Really, Al? I have a basement? I never that. After all, it's not like the realtor gave me a tour of the house before I bought it or anything like that." Matthew rolled his eyes as he spoke, knowing full well that his sarcasm would go right over Alfred's head.

Alfred opened his mouth to respond, but Arthur cut him off. "Why don't you come inside, lad. We've a lot to talk about."

Matthew bit his lip. He'd never heard Arthur use that tone before. It was…solemn, like the voice of a priest listening to a confession. Or like the one confessing.

He allowed himself to be led inside and frowned at the expressions on Ceilí's and Bhaltair's faces. As inscrutable as Arthur's.

"Dad…everyone…what's going on?" Matthew locked eyes with Gilbert for a moment. The ghost shrugged hopelessly.

"That's a helluva good question. What _is_ going on?" Alfred stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Matthew, arms crossed.

Arthur sighed heavily. "We're here…to resurrect Gilbert."

"No."

..

This chapter took forever to write…it turned out okay, though. A & P stands for Anatomy and Physiology. Toris is studying to be a doctor, and Ivan is after a degree in psychology. I've pretty much decided who I'm going to use for the mysterious character, but a few last-minute votes might change my mind!  
But anyway, I hope you all liked it! Equilibrium out!


	16. Chapter 16

Gilbert could feel their eyes boring into him. All of them, staring at him.

"No? What do you mean, _no?_" Arthur rounded on him.

"That's what we're doing here…?" Alfred stared at his father blankly. "Are resurrection spells even possible…?"

"I've been talking to Nikolai…the guy dating one of the neighbors. He's been telling me about spells, and things like that. More open about it than you all have been." Gilbert sighed, and ran his hand through his hair. "And he told me that resurrection spells are forbidden because fifty percent of the time they kill the caster. I, I can't let you all take that risk for me."

"I've been doing some research on this," Bhaltair took a step forward, "and as far as I can tell, that rate only applies to spells that require a single caster. The likely hood drops by ten percent with every added one. Besides, we have specialists here. This isn't as dangerous as you think."

"And as far as the whole 'forbidden' thing goes, there are loopholes." Ceilí added. "The law states that the reanimation of a being that has passed from this world is illegal. You, however, never left. That in itself lowers the risk as well, because we only have to summon one angel to bind your soul to the artificial body instead of two so that one can _call_ your soul."

"Artificial…? A-_angel?"_ Gilbert gaped.

"Well, angel is just one translation from the Old Script. Demon works too. It's basically a being summoned from a parallel world for a short period of time. They perform for us a certain task that we're incapable of doing ourselves in exchange for a sacrifice—don't give me that look, it's just the terminology. Sacrifices are usually things like puppies, or newborn kitte—"

"Bhaltair, shut up. There are no sacrifices. In fact, we're not sure why they help us at all. There's been some research that suggests that they covet our world, and do our bidding for a chance to escape to it." Ceilí gave her brother a Look, and he grinned unabashedly.

"I don't believe that. I think they just like to look at our _purty faces._" Bhaltair waggled his eyebrows at his siblings. Ceilí smacked his arm hard enough to bruise. Arthur rolled his eyes.

,,

"What are we going to have to do?" Charlie crossed his arms, scowling up at Arthur. It wasn't that he had anything against helping Matthew, but he'd never met Gilbert before, and was still a bit wary of the albino's ability to see him.

"Good question." Éimí shifted along the back of Matthew's couch, talons leaving sharp puncture marks.

"The same thing you do when you assist with a normal spell. Just because it's a resurrection circle doesn't mean it's any different." Ceilí smoothed Éimí's feathers.

"What do they do in a normal spell? Nikolai never had a spirit animal, so he couldn't tell me much about them." Gilbert mirrored Charlie's position, hovering off the ground with his arms and legs folded, though he did so without the aid of wings.

"They channel the caster's power so that it's more focused. Otherwise the spell spins out of control and destroys everything nearby." At the shocked look on Gilbert's face, Matthew quickly amended, "In a worst-case scenario, I mean. Usually the only thing that happens is the caster gets knocked out and comes to with their surroundings a bit mussed."

"But you all have your spirit animals with you, so that won't happen, right?"

"Exactly." Arthur nodded. "Now we need to set up our circle. Matthew, is your yard clear? The back one, the front's too exposed and we'll need a bit of privacy."

"Yeah, I keep it pretty neat. What about the neighbors? I think Nikolai might be over there…" Matthew gestured in the general direction of the Oxenstierna-Väinämöinen household.

"Aw, Matt, do you really have so little faith in my ability?" Bhaltair grinned, elbowing his nephew in the ribs.

"I'd like to meet this…_Nikolai_." Ceilí thrummed blood-red fingernails across the back of the couch, the indentations left behind shadows of the marks Éimí had left.

"I'd like to get to know him better as well, but this isn't the time. We have to cast the circle while the moon is still waxing, so we only have a few days." Arthur pointed out.

"Right, right. So where are we gonna do this thing?" Bhaltair cocked his head, bangs falling across his face like a forelock.

"Th-there's a spot, between the shed and a tree, that should be good. It's pretty sheltered, and I think there's enough room." Matthew rested his hand on the knob of the back door, wondering when his family had corralled him into the kitchen.

"Perfect. First we need to make an avatar, which might take a bit. You wouldn't happen to have any spare dirt handy, would you?" Bhaltair shoved his hands in his pockets.

"Um, no, I don't think I do…would sculpting clay work?"

"Yeah, that would be great. Can you get your hands on some?"

"My friend Lars makes pottery." Mostly bongs and flower pots, but still.

,,

"You want _how much_?"Lars stood on his front porch, surrounded by tulips, mouth agape. "Why do you need 150 pounds of clay?"

"I'm…I'm making a life-size sculpture of a friend of mine." Matthew wrung his hands, wondering if his half-truth was plausible.

"Uh-huh. Well, if you want some, I can tell you about a supplier I use, but I'm not just going to give you 150 pounds of clay." Lars crouched to sniff a flower, and looked up at Matthew.

"That would be great…how much will it cost?"

,,

"They're planning something risky…" Nikolai frowned out Mathias's window. "That man…his barrier would be able to keep me out…" The man in question, auburn-haired and green-eyed, was being followed by a pygmy unicorn as he dashed around Williams' yard. He seemed to be setting up the points of a pentagram.

"What's so interesting about them, Nikki? If you keep watching 'em, I might start to get jealous." Mathias tossed his arms around Nikolai's shoulders and rested his chin on his head.

"…I like the house." It was an utter lie, but Nikolai doubted Mathias could tell that.

The blond who appeared to be the owner of house's twin was molding something out of an enormous lump of clay. It had already begun to take a vaguely human form, and Nikolai had no doubt as to what its end shape would be. The posing spirit only reinforced the thought.

"C'mon, Nikki, let's get Berwald to make us some breakfast. 'S too early to be spying on the neighbors."

,,

"Why do you need to make a clay me?" Gilbert flipped in midair so that he was hovering upside down.

"It's going to be a receptacle for your soul. It needs to have something physical to bind to, or else you'll dissipate during the casting." Bhaltair called over his shoulder from across Matthew's yard.

"Awesome."

..

Chapter end! I'm sorry this took so long to get out, but I haven't been on the computer at all for most of the time since I posted chapter 15. Anyway, I hope you all liked it! Hopefully chapter 17 will be posted more quickly than this one was. (crosses fingers) If I go a little over the top with descriptions of Gilbert's aerial acrobatics, it's 'cause I've been rereading Yu Yu Hakusho, and I just finished the part with Jin…I heart Jin! He's so kyoot! Equilibrium out!


	17. Chapter 17

"Hey, Gil, c'mere." Alfred motioned Gilbert toward him. "Gimme your hand."

"Uh, okay." Gilbert extended the requested appendage.

Alfred made a sort of humming noise in the back of his throat. "This is so weird. I've never seen anything like it before."

"Like what?" Matthew crouched next to his twin.

"The lines on his palm, they don't make any sense. They're just, well, lines. Like anyone else might see. Just lines, with no meaning, no purpose." Alfred gestured his hand over Gilbert's.

"But you'll still be able to do the match, right?" Matthew bit his lip.

"Yeah, of course. It'll be easy." Alfred waved the question away dismissively. "I wonder if I'll be able to read it after we've brought him back."

"Yeah, I have no idea. Are you gonna sit there holding my hand just 'cause you can, or is there a reason?" Gilbert tapped his foot, annoyed at being ignored.

"Right, right. Gotta do the match." Alfred turned the hand of the clay avatar palm-up and pulled a small oak box from one of the pockets on his bomber jacket. He carefully popped the clasp with his thumb-nail. The lid opened silently. Inside was the thin tip of a willow branch, which Alfred slowly, reverently removed. "This should be perfect."

"If you say so…what is it?" Gilbert warily eyed the small device.

"It's what I'm going to use to draw the lines onto the clay. It's already got a lot of my power in it, 'cause I carry it around everywhere. Hold your hand still; if I screw this up you'll bind improperly." Alfred changed the angles of both Gilbert's hand and the doll's until they lined up. Taking the piece of willow, he painstakingly began tracing faint lines onto the palm of the shell. They matched up perfectly with the lines on Gilbert's hands. "Okay…I think I'm done with this one. Sit on the other side."

Gilbert complied silently, watching Matthew as he hurried toward Bhaltair.

"Uncle Walter, how long will it take you to set up the barrier?"

Bhaltair looked up from the rune he was scratching into the dirt. "I don't know. Another half hour, maybe? Why?"

"No reason, really. I'm just…just getting a bad feeling. I think Nikolai's going to try to interfere." Matthew frowned at his neighbor's house.

"No. I would actually like…to assist, if possible." Nikolai spoke softly, voice nearly carried away by the wind.

Arthur jumped. He hadn't heard Nikolai approach, nor had the others. "Why?" The question was sharp.

"It pains me to see the string severed prematurely." Nikolai murmured.

"String…?" Matthew frowned at Nikolai.

'_The_ _secrets of the heart, hidden from most, are quite visible to me.'_ Nikolai's words, spoken a seeming eternity ago, whispered in Arthur's ear. _'I cannot predict the future, but I am privy to the most likely path of…of the red string of fate…'_

"I understand. What can you do without a Spirit Animal?" Arthur didn't really want to be rude, but he was honestly curious.

A slight smile flashed across Nikolai's face, gone almost before it could be identified. "I see you've been speaking with Gilbert. I am," he paused, as if hesitant to share what he was about to say, "I am one of the High Born."

Bhaltair sucked in a sharp breath. "A-a High Born? I thought they were just legends, myths!"

"Apparently not." Ceilí muttered. "Are you really? Or do you just think it's funny to play pretend?"

"I promise you that I am not lying. If you like, I could perhaps come up with proof." There was a soft almost-challenge in Nikolai's tone.

"I'd like to see that." Alfred sneered, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Matthew.

"What are you all _talking about?_" Gilbert demanded.

Matthew wrung his hands as he spoke. "The High Born are said to be the first humans with supernatural abilities. All current practitioners are supposedly descended from them. But I've always thought that it was just a fairytale to tell your kids."

"You say you're a High Born. I say _prove it._" Alfred jerked his chin up, a sharp, alpha-male gesture.

"If…if I must." Nikolai took deep breath, exhaled slowly. "Do any of you remember the legends you spoke of before? The ones that tell of us, and the fact that of all humans, only we were able to control the earth?" He knelt slowly and placed his hand on the warm topsoil.

The dust and dirt began to rise, first merely hovering Nikolai's hand, and then gradually taking shape. It appeared to be taking the form of a human figure with unruly hair. He glanced at it, and a blush flashed across his cheeks. The shape rapidly changed, turning from a man to a troll in a matter of seconds, no detail spared. Even the creases around the lopsided mouth were present.

Alfred whistled softly. "Damn. That sure woulda been handy when we were making this." He tapped the clay effigy with his foot.

"Not really. It would have had too much of my essence in it, and rejected Gilbert's soul." The earthen troll crumbled around Nikolai's feet. "Do you believe me?"

"I, yeah, I believe you. After that, how could I not?" Alfred laughed shakily.

"I'm still confused." Gilbert grumbled. "Couldn't one of you guys done that?"

"Have you ever heard of the five element theory? It's an Eastern thing, so you might not have." Bhaltair knelt to continue tracing runes as he spoke.

"Uh, vaguely. One of my friends' brothers was into feng shui." Gilbert thought of Kiku, and his pony-tailed stepbrother.

"Well, okay. The five elements are metal, water, wood, fire, and earth. Everyone, even non-practitioners, has one element that they're most attuned to. Only the High Born are ever able to control earth." Bhaltair explained absently. "You're element is…" He looked Gilbert up and down critically.

"Wood." Matthew chimed in. "His element is wood. The same as Dad."

Arthur looked Gilbert over. "That sounds about right," he said with a smile.

Nikolai cleared his throat. "It will be dark soon. We should try to finish the barrier and effigy today, but tomorrow night will be ideal for casting the circle and the summoning."

Ceilí frowned at the sky. "Yeah. You're right. We should finish up here, and settle in for the night."

,,

Arthur frowned, remembering the shape Nikolai's earthen statue had first begun to take. _I wonder…who it was becoming…_ Deciding that the only way to find out would be to ask, Arthur trekked across Matthew's house in an attempt to find Nikolai.

He eventually came across him, curled up in an armchair, fast asleep.

_He looks like a child._

"Can, can I help you?" Nikolai sat up, yawning and rubbing his eyes. Sleep had thickened his accent, and Arthur now recognized it as Norwegian.

"I didn't mean to wake you…but since you're already up, who was that clay figure going to be, before you made it a troll?"

Nikolai jumped at the bluntness of the question. "It takes the shape of whatever is foremost in my mind. I was…distracted. I was wondering if we were being watched. That's all." A faint blush was rising over his cheeks.

"That was a pretty specific shape. Was there someone in particular on your mind?" Arthur pressed.

"I…yes. There was. You are sharp." Nikolai smiled slightly.

"I have two sons who, not all that long ago, were teenagers. I've gotten fairly good at noticing when there's something someone isn't telling me." Arthur laughed quietly.

"I suppose that would help." The two sat in companionable silence for a moment.

"So, who was it?" Arthur broke the quiet with his question.

Nikolai, who had returned to his normal color, flushed again. "He is a friend. That is all."

"I'm sure." Nikolai didn't miss Arthur's dry tone. Arthur didn't miss the deepening shade of Nikolai's face.

..

Wow, I can't believe it took so long to write this. Let's see, it's never been brought up, but I see no reason not to tell you: Gilbert is a carpenter. That's why his element is wood. Or rather, he's a carpenter because of his element. Does that make sense? It does to me.  
Eee! I went to a dance the other day, and the girl I've been crushing on for a while asked me to with her! I had a lot of fun…we danced together! Eee! I'm so happy! [{Equilibrium out!}]


	18. Chapter 18

"Is this going to take much longer? 'Cause I'm getting bored." Alfred shuffled his feet to ward off the descending cold. His family ignored him. "C'mon," he whined. "Is it?"

"It'll be done quicker if you'll shut up." Matthew replied flatly, helping Arthur set up the pentagram. Alfred stuck his tongue out. Matthew stuck his out in response. Arthur sighed. Gilbert snickered.

Bhaltair tuned out his nephews' bickering and concentrated on creating the necessary barrier. He sat cross-legged on the grass, eyes closed. He exhaled slowly, steadily and then inhaled sharply. The barrier spread out around him in a single burst, enveloping everything within range.

Nikolai gasped. It was strange, foreign to feel someone else's power around him. Gilbert shivered; he didn't know what that sudden feeling was, but it was something he would never forget. All those related to Bhaltair ignored it, too used to him to pay it much attention.

Bhaltair opened his eyes and smiled almost tiredly at Ceilí. "Your turn, Sis."

Ceilí laughed quietly. "Yeah, I guess it is." Clouds drifted across the waxing moon. Ceilí's brow creased, and the fog slowly lifted, clearing first around her, then gradually dissipating in a large circle, which she was the center of.

Gilbert gave a low whistle of appreciation. "Damn, I wish I could do that."

"Yeah, it does come in handy sometimes." Ceilí stood, brushing dirt off her slacks.

Nikolai cleared his throat. "Matthew, do you have any spare clothing?"

"Um…what?" Matthew looked up from his careful drawing of a point on the pentagram.

"If we animate the avatar as is, it will be naked." Nikolai said flatly.

"Not that I mind showing off my awesome five meters, but it's kinda cold." Gilbert shifted slightly, self-conscious.

"Uh, r-right. I think I've got some stuff that would fit…" Matthew darted back inside, blushing.

Alfred snickered. "But Mattie, this might be the only chance you get to see him naked!" He hollered.

"Sh-shut _up_, Alfred!"

,,

"All right, let's get this party started." Bhaltair rubbed his hands together, standing at one point of the finished pentagram.

Nikolai nodded silently. He was sitting cross-legged in the center, next to the clay doll.

"What am I supposed to do?" Gilbert waited unsurely just outside the larger circle, unwilling to enter it without permission, a relic of an instinct from a time long past.

"Just hover over the effigy." Arthur instructed. "And don't step in that circle." He pointed to the smaller one. It was just barely touching the edge of the larger diagram, which contained the pentagram as well as the casters. A small portion of the line separating the two had been rubbed out and replaced with a thick trickle of sea salt.

Gilbert complied wordlessly.

"Is everything ready, then?" Ceilí looked around, making sure everything—and everyone—was in position.

There was a general affirmative murmuring around the circle.

"Then let's begin." Ceilí closed her eyes and began the chant. Bhaltair picked up next, followed by Arthur, Alfred and Matthew entering last, in unison.

It was a smooth, melodic sounding language. The syllables rolled off five tongues in chorus, sending an eerie chill down Gilbert's spine.

Nikolai remained silent, tracing summoning runes, sealing runes, protecting runes into the dirt by his side.

Matthew's voice sounded somehow distinct from the rest, clearer, sharper. Power seemed to ripple off him, spreading like someone had dropped a stone in a pond.

The smaller circle—just barely large enough to contain a human form—began to glow. A pentagram, searing white, sung through the circle, no point extending from it, following invisible lines. Thin, blue-white smoke rose from the center and took the shape of a kneeling man, mirroring Gilbert.

It quickly gained a more definite form. Details began to take shape: a grinning mouth, amber eyes, brown hair with a single fly-away curl. After a moment, Arthur recognized the figure's loose, blue and white clothing as a Korean hanbok.

The beaming figure angled his head slightly, examining the group in front of him. "So you all are the ones that summoned me? You must have some sort of specialist here; most people can only summon my sister. Not that there's anything _wrong_ with her, but I'm just more powerful, is all. I mean seriously, all magic _did_ originate from me." His eyes roved over the casters a second time, now focusing on Nikolai. "A High Born?" He giggled, the sound suddenly high and manic, nothing like the excitable, but _reasonable_ tone from before. "It's been decades since I've seen one of you. I didn't know there were any left, actually. Thought you'd gone extinct, like so many of the animals you humans try your damndest to save, even while you destroy them."

"We have summoned you here for a reason," Ceilí announced sharply. "What may we call you?" She knew better than to ask for his real name, knew the power such things held over such creatures.

"Hmm…" He seemed to ponder for a moment. "How about…Yong Soo! Call me Yong Soo." He smiled at them all, bright and sunny once more. "Why did you summon me? _Who_ summoned me? I mean, no offense girly, but you're just not my type." He winked.

"I did." Matthew's voice remained clear as he spoke.

Yong Soo narrowed his eyes. "_You_ summoned me? A scrawny little boy, barely more than a child? I find that hard to believe. Unless, of course, you're one of _those_. Are you, boy? One of the ones _gifted_, although others would say _cursed_, with the ability to summon anything? How many close to you have died, even in the few short years of your existence? How many have _suffered_, just because you happened to be related to them?" The mocking, sneering hue pulled up into his voice as if from a well.

"That is none of your concern." Arthur's voice was tight, the words spoken through gritted teeth. "We have not brought you here to insult us."

"Well then, what have you brought me here for?" And again he was sunlight and cool breezes and pleasantries.

"We request that you bind this soul to this clay husk." Nikolai finally spoke, the first sound he'd made since the casting began.

Gilbert and Yong Soo met eyes. Both were silent, sizing the other up. "What's so special about him that you'd risk your lives to revive him?" There was nothing but honest curiosity in Yong Soo's voice.

Bhaltair smiled exasperatedly. "You really ask a lot of questions, don't you?"

Yong Soo laughed. "Yeah, I guess. Are you really sure that's what you want me to do, though? It'll be really difficult for me, and really dangerous for you. His soul has been free-standing for so long, it might reject the binding, even though the avatar is a perfect match."

"We're sure." There was a finality in Ceilí's voice not even Yong Soo could argue with.

The creature grinned, a swirling combination of mockery and sincerity. "Then let us begin—"

"Wait!" Alfred almost moved from his corner of the pentagram, but restraint and the current of magic running over his feet stopped him. "What, what is it like in your world?"

Yong Soo stood slowly, the movement slick and fluid. His feet remained at least a foot from the grass beneath him. "It's…pretty, in the same way a picked flower is pretty. Beautiful, but dead. A thousand years ago, a _hundred_ years ago, you couldn't see it. Couldn't see where the rot had begun to set in. But now, now that's all I can see. But I'm old. The younger ones still see only plucked-blossom glamour. The old ones, ones like me, and my sister, we see the decay, see the brown creeping up on the edges of the petals." He smiled, soft and sad. "It's nothing like your world. Here, everything is still alive and young and growing."

Arthur glared daggers at his oldest son. Alfred smiled sheepishly back. "Now that we have that out of the way, why don't we begin in earnest?"

Yong Soo's smile was feline and predatory, the grin of a hunter as he pulls the trigger. "A brilliant idea, Mr. Kirkland." Arthur stiffened, but refused to rise to the bait.

The ethereal being laughed again, and began to change. He became translucent, misty, stretching into a thin, unearthly form that was still very human and yet _not_.

Gilbert saw stars. He felt like he'd received a blow to the head without the pain, like he'd taken some kind of psychedelic that left him with the strangest high he'd ever felt, but most of all he felt hollow. A vortex opened up in his chest pulling him closer to the doll, or the doll closer to him, and he impacted with smooth, soft clay and went through and everything went black.

..

Wow, I am so sorry it took me so long to write this. I know I say that every time, and I mean it every time, but it still doesn't seem like enough. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it, despite the long wait. Demented!Korea was suggested, as was normal Korea, so there you go for the mysterious cameo. Although, I guess the role is a little more important than a cameo. Heh-heh. Oh yeah, the sister he mentions is Taiwan, but I doubt she'll have a larger role. Uh…I think that might be it…Equilibrium…out.


	19. Chapter 19

Matthew could only watch in horror as Gilbert grew insubstantial, sinking, falling into earth and clay and darkness. A sound like a final gasp escaped his lips and then he was gone. Yong Soo didn't seem to notice, still channeling energy. He was glowing, moonlight running through him and into his circle, passing into the second through the channel of purifying salt, running through the lines of the pentagram and centering on the still clay figure that was starting to look like Gilbert.

He wanted to run, to scream, to do _something_, but the magic coursing through him held him still. Every pulse of energy drew another detail into the clay, painted another blush of red, flash of silver onto the cool orange.

And then something jerked, like a frayed rope about to give out. A high, thin keening ripped through the night. Yong Soo looked like he was being torn in half, pulled equally toward the soul he was binding and the moon he was relying on. The surges of power increased in frequency and strength, nearly bringing Bhaltair to his knees and leaving Arthur to mutter a string of curses-prayers-wishes under his breath.

The searing, blinding, freezing power flashed, pushing at its bindings, fighting its restraints. Éimí shrieked, the high, unnatural sound of a predator in pain.

Nikolai curled in on himself, earth-bound body fighting the influx of celestial power. Pain seared at his every nerve-ending, telling him to _get out get out get OUT_, but he couldn't move, couldn't even think.

Yong Soo gasped, a sharp sound like breaking glass, and the glow suddenly stopped. He collapsed, leaning against the barrier around his circle. It crackled faintly where he touched it, but he didn't move. The power rushing through the diagrams ceased and Alfred's legs gave out, leaving him an exhausted heap just barely within the lines carved into the ground.

"That was quite a trial, da ze~!" Yong Soo grinned weakly. "I bound him as best I could; I don't know if it worked. You all survived, right?"

Nikolai groaned quietly as he straightened into a sitting position. Bhaltair leaned against Ceilí, both of them looking half-dead. Arthur ran shaky hands through his hair. Matthew stood as still as a statue, shock and relief and worry running through him in equal amounts. Worry gained strength rapidly, and he abruptly threw himself to his knees beside the motionless clay doll that was supposed to be Gilbert.

The skin was smooth, soft, _human feeling_. But it was cold. Cold as the still air around them, cold as the clay it was made from. The chest lay still, the eyes closed. Nothing _happened_. No flutter of breath, no beat of pulse. Nothing.

"D-damnit, Gilbert! Don't you dare die on me. Don't you dare!" Something like tears choked Matthew's voice. Liquid blurred his vision as he locked his eyes on Yong Soo.

The creature shrugged. "I'm sorry. Really, I am. But if he didn't bind properly, there's nothing I can do."

Matthew broke, burying his face in the unmoving, heat-less chest and crying, body shaking like a branch in a storm. Arthur reached out like he wanted to comfort him, but drew his hand back and looked away. Alfred whispered his brother's name, once, soft and hoarse and unheard.

Nikolai, kneeling beside Matthew, narrowed his eyes. Something seemed off. Forgotten. He closed his eyes and saw it. Saw Matthew, laughing and blushing. Saw him _with_ someone. Someone loud and crass and silver-haired. His eyes shot open and locked on Gilbert, so he was the first one, the only one, to see the pale mouth open in a sharp gasp, to see the color flood the death-white cheeks, to hear the ragged first breath of a new life.

Gilbert sat up abruptly, choking and gasping, drawing air into his new lungs. Matthew, dislodged from his earlier position, sat back, simply staring at him. "Y-you…"

"Yeah, me." Gilbert's voice was raspy and hoarse but unmistakably his. "Who were you expecting, the Easter Bunny?"

"Gilbert, I-I thought, I thought you'd, you'd," Matthew burst into renewed tears and tackled Gilbert in a bone-crushing hug.

"Did I worry you, Birdie?" Gilbert smiled indulgently and rubbed Matthew's back.

Yong Soo cocked his head. "Not that watching human displays of affection isn't fascinating, but can I go now?"

Ceilí looked up. "What? Yes, yes, of course." She intoned something in the dulcet language from before. Yong Soo smiled.

"Thank you!" He slowly began to return to mist. "Hey, Beilschmidt! Good luck on the whole 'coming back to life' thing!"

"Good luck on the whole 'dying world' thing," Gilbert shot back, grinning. Yong Soo laughed as he disappeared. "So, is the spell over now?"

"Yeah. All we have left to do is destroy the circles." Bhaltair stumbled from the pentagram as he spoke.

They all began to obliterate parts of the diagram, rubbing it into the dirt from which it had come. The salt was scattered to the wind, picked up by a helpful boost from Ceilí. As Nikolai smudged out the final line of the pentagram, Gilbert's eyes went blank.

Things were flooding his mind, memories he hadn't realized he'd forgotten. His own high, childish laughter and Ludwig's startled yelp as he was pushed into a pool. Roderich's closed eyes and a gentle lullaby floating on the air as Gilbert tossed, unable to sleep from fever. Francis and Toni, both drunk off their asses, roaring with laughter over a joke Gilbert hadn't heard over the jukebox. A blur of spiked blond hair and broad shoulders and dull, pulsing pain.

"Gilbert? What's wrong?" Matthew's eyes locked with his.

"N-nothing, it's just…nothing." Gilbert shook his head.

"Things are coming back to you." There was no question in Nikolai's tone. "The soul being detached from a body can cause memories to blur and eventually be lost. Being reunited with a body, even though it isn't the original, will bring them back."

"Memories?" Matthew asked quietly, wondering what Gilbert might have forgotten.

"Yeah. Mostly things from when I was a kid, and things I did with Toni and Francis." Gilbert shook his head, trying to puzzle out the last memory.

Bhaltair exhaled slowly, and his barrier dissolved into wisps of light that quickly disappeared.

Ceilí looked over the assembled group. "All right boys, we've had a long night. Why don't we all turn in? Gilbert, you probably need it the most. Your new body needs to gain some energy."

..

Chapter nineteen already! But stayed tuned in, folks, 'cause this isn't _quite_ the last chapter. There'll be at least one more, possibly others. Equilibrium out!


End file.
